Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Fly Paper

Sitting in the local pub,
Blowing smoke rings in the air…
Laugh-out-loud conversations,
We drank too much and didn't care.

Raised glasses toasted our good life,
Celebrating both old friends and new…
We dove head first in tomorrows,
A shared optimistic, yet naive view.

We later followed different paths,
Each acquiring our own unique history,
Till one by one our whereabouts,
To one another was a mystery.

Once magically, we fell in together,
Drawn to events only youth attracts,
Till one by one we fell behind
As life dropped us in our tracks.

We survivors cherish those moments,
Every dance, every song, each caper…
Flying through our dreams and memories,
Until captured by time’s fly paper.

1 comment:

  1. "Time's flypaper" is a fascinating idea. The phrase is an example of your masterly use of language.