languishing in late summer’s backyard
surrounded by the intimate drama of family
rented time recedes into obscurity

the ridiculous wants and needs
of stuff
the clarion call of youth
fades

out and about
they speed-walk past
children on shoulders
earbuds guarding the mind
from this moment
from this space
these people

despite random “likes”
with no particular message
even dear old friends
seem to never get back
to never imagine
our grief

untrue of course
we all have our lives
and none of us belong
to another
excepting my love

then again

——

m(___)m