future ghosts

floating by your school
of future ghosts
reminds me that I miss
the way you used to kiss
my telephone every night
in the fading autumn light
before you went
dream hunting,

while the teachers were asleep
and the streetlamps
opened up their golden eyes
to gaze upon
the curve of your smile,
you gave your voice to me,
you wanted me to listen.

but time is a liar,
I thought we could fool it.
and the weight of years
is dense and heavy,
hanging in the air between us,
muffling your final whispers:
"It is too late, old sun,
too late, too late.
Just forget, just forget,
just close your pretty eyes."

(old poem//november 9th 2009)