The days are untied at the sound of a word,
Seconds coil, leave merely a trace,
Rust covered leaves blister and turn,
Unravel out, a home to replace.
Your warm soft eyes feel how I fade in the light,
Is the bitter spring only a mark of what remains?
The firm bright lines blurred after all of this time,
Is it my weathered bearing that pours through the grain?
Spread all out thoughts to places we knew,
And left behind shallow regrets,
Voice wearing thin, lips colored blue,
A beggar's plea, the years to forgive.