Live In The Day


The moon but a sliver in a pale blue sky

Wispy clouds remembrance of the day

Triangular silhouettes against bleeding horizon

Who cut the ending of the sky?

Who copied it into the lake?

A broken boat just waiting

For a broken child with a half present flag

Water stretched far across the landscape

The scent of rotten sludge in the air

Tussocks cut carelessly at his soles

Pain contradicted by comfort from the soft mud

He wishes he could reach the sky

Capture the last of the day and hold it to himself forever

Nearly as much as he wishes he could stitch back together the sky

To prevent it from bleeding any more

If only it were to be that easy

If only he could capture the fading light with needles and thread

But it's not to be

Slowly but surely its swallowed by darkness

He clings to the light how he clings to his life

So tight, but it slips like smoke through his hands

His life isn't like the day

Because his breath won't be coming back in the morning