March 29, 2013

The end of March

Writing my story in the hours 
of the day like sentences on the page 
of the week in the chapter of 
the month of the lesson of 
the year in the time of 
my age in the book of 
my life on the stage 
in your eyes. 

All the marks I make 
and hands I hold 
and pictures I take 
are the letters I leave in the wake 
drifting towards the sea of infinity 
only to evaporate.