At the horizon,
through the tiny slit between dark ocean and a black sky,
where the blanching the day begins,
gone years uninvited came,
whispering voices of the long time dead,
the eyes of unwise ghosts that that will not rest.

Tired, I give in
lets roll that film,
then archive it and be gone,
I can’t unsay the said,
the barrier between you and me
are wider than years,
don’t crowd my mind
I want to sleep a bit longer
this temperate summer’s dawn.