Stumbling blindly towards my afterthought
I caught a glimpse of you and
lost my footing . . .
Abysmal and carefree
Lights dance in front of my
closed eyelids . . .
I’m 6 years old and you are
lost somewhere
beneath this blanket of stars.
These paths are growing wider,
forking into a thousand directions,
leading home.
Bypassing adventures,
experiences,
you.
These moments are not mere anecdotes,
amusing as they seem . . .
We touched something,
watched it wake and
take flight.


1997 CSMildred Frank