To be consumed
By some separate time
Or a very desperate idea
On a volume of times apart
And what was gotten out of it
Could out be that the water
Passing in front of the moon tonight
It’s the secret time you dream into
While the minutes
Of stillness pass
Any other time you are as close as this
I have a good golden feeling
To carry across this abyss
Onto a dark curtain of next days regret
And as I make an orange drink drop
Down my throat as a
Matching color sunsets around
The last place we talked
And I need you that much more

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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