after stagnant years wasted in futility


the minutes and hours grow busy and brighter

we have no control except over ourselves


and what was dust falling through fingers

is moist soil caking on our holding hands


so much depends on the changing weather

but when the clouds shred there is still


the sun in the day and overwhelming vasts of stars at night




Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.