Here (and gone)

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You’re

here, you’re present, and the world’s just started –
clothes don’t fit anymore, you’ve
grown; the silhouette grows as seconds tick and days pass.
The world’s here – reality fluid as fantasies, and
curiosity sparked the landslide of furniture that
killed
the cat. You crawl, and you’re

walking, step by step, and time runs –
clothes don’t fit anymore, you’ve
grown; like a sprout, a growing shadow.
The world’s acting fickle, so you dream – and
dreams paint their own illusory
lights
and shades. You run, and you’re

in the running, reaching, nearly there (– right?)
Clothes don’t fit anymore, you’ve
grown; florid as carnations and tinkling with glass.
The world’s flying while you run and
life’s gliding snakelike, and you wish you could fly to
grasp
the ungraspable. You reach, and you’re

there (but where did you want to go?)
Clothes don’t fit anymore, you’ve
grown; a fruit or two, but you’d rather be a seed.
The world’s small now that you’re tall, too tall, and
life’s sweet as day lilies but you can’t find the scent
anymore
and night is coming. You wonder, and you’re

dreaming – of the past, and your eyes wander;
clothes don’t fit anymore, you’ve
grown; getting on, grown and fading.
The world’s salty like lacrimation and its tears bitter;
the sky cries for the forgotten, though the world spares
nobody
no tears. You blink, and you’re

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Filed under Personal, Poetry, by Kenneth