no dreams
as the time shifted
forward and i
lay lost in thought
of what once was
in a swarm of
silent longing
waiting for the
sparrows to sound
a continuation
to this unquenchable
desire for what
wants nothing to
do with me at all

the last time
the clock rolls forward
as a fool seeks
that which casually
left him behind

hoarding those
perfect moments
that grow granular
only to slip away
through trembling
hands realizing
there are no more
first times ahead
just last attempts
growing farther
into the sepia past