We were supposed to grow old….
The step thinks,
Time in a line
Line in time
In a time line
A in Line
This the time or not?
What will she do?
This time, cus time
pushes, and that next step is there right there vexin,g hexing her on.
“Oh what will I choose this time?
Living my time is no use any more.” She says.
The step thinks,
Rules of curiosity are
blurred-no one has time-
She ran off with the spoon
over the moon.
Catch her saying a rhyme
at least this time she knows how too.
The step sings back,
Least she be lost in
the steps of this timeline
again, over-n-over
flow-n-grow with just a touch,
a lift of that leg,
she’ll step forward.
Eyes open, she pushes that strand back, and clears her view,
“Be known to me step,
Step stairs where do I ride?
Can’t hide, must choose now or never
Haven’t slept since last time awwww.
“That last time,
them were good times,
that step was a hard black highway
94W – 257 mile to the north
Hold your breath
cuz you ain’t dead yet,
lovely plateau
nights,
Party rooftops,
hidden high rise windows,
feeling two cities at once.
Yep, that step was the lovely one.
Too many false steps have led to this, contemplative,
Hesitated,
Procrastinated,
Faithful,
Step.”
You still
Breathing? Answers
that faithful step.
“Oh, Yes Ma’am I am”
