Hour in the Glass

On the sand falling through glass,

we lay under the sun. Just far enough.

No one would suspect a thing.

I can’t bear to look at you any longer, 

I look toward the sky.

There’s a fishing line in the clouds, how

foolish, 

a hook cutting through mist.

Does the bucket man know?

There’s nothing 

to catch? 

Every flick of the hook against 

those clouds sends little

condensation to the

head of this glass. Speckled just

for me to enjoy.

When I count droplets, 

forgetting about you is easier.

The sand is warmer

with me it breathes,

a vision

strikes me. Clear as the red bead

in the atmosphere.

Your voice might be here, but my intuition

says your voice is from later.

Yes, I can see it now,

you and me, falling in the sand,

you and me, making an impact,

you and me, playing - you and me loving,

you and running, me and chasing

you and me circling

I see the day I grow bold enough to

brush your shirt collar. 

You shrinking, me growing

and and and the distance

encouraging sand to pour.