are, and this is the way it is between
us. You're stuck in the now, an unforeseen
future awaits. Dreams escape, overdue,
and left behind is a life you outgrew
long ago. You feel your world's a machine,
tracking steadily toward places unseen.
Only way forward is probably through
the jungle, jumble, thicket of longing,
desires for what you don't know. Finger-
painted future; impressionist delight.
How long until that sense of belonging?
Lost in timelessness forever; linger;
you now have fewer years to get it right.
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019