To the Past

Be that motel in the outskirts of history.
Hold a vacant room for us on the rainy Tuesdays

of adulthood. Let us sit on your bar stools
whenever we’ve forgotten the name

of a stranger who’s shown us a minor kindness.
Let us converse with no one but ourselves.

Account for the selves that once were alive.
Then tell them of the world and its newest stories.

Of the infinite shapes of sky,
the quiet evenings that await,

and the love songs we still sing in our sleep
we have yet to write.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s