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Matthew Santos
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Dead Star Watching
As I look back
on the past
like a telescope into the night
to find old light waning.
There's a sunny day
in May or June
a quaint cafe
in the afternoon
please don't forget me
with a coffee over ice.
The sky's in motion
dead star watching.
Where goes the time in between?
is it cut like outtakes from a scene?
is it deep down in my memory?
or does it, burn up like smoke into the air?
Should I even care?
With incense and yesterday burning
ghostly hands they reach across the great divide
a quiet messenger who leaves her silken lines
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across your face the thought of me left in your mind.
A recollection of a
retrospection.
Where goes the time in between?
Is it cut like outtakes from a scene?
Is it deep down in my memory?
Or does it, burn up like smoke into the air?
Now is everything.
The sky's in motion
dead star watching.
Where goes the time in between?
is it cut like outtakes from a scene?
is it deep down in my memory?
or does it, burn up like smoke into the air?
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