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laid on the bed recited
a beautiful poem
stood up to write it down
now that it's gone
like the moon comes up
moving farther away
in a backwards motion
in to the darken pass
leaving full returning half
the bells no longer ring
the same once when
they chimed at noontime
so the train still whistles
at midnight through
these cheesy noise
reduction muffles
the further I go the closer
I get away only to discover
I've gone nowhere far
enough I'm always
too close sleeping
dreaming of losing
collected work
carefully chronicling
a life's pass journey
as pages tear turning
echo's a hoot then a
holla back distance out
I still hear that realizing
I may have left but still
on the same track
