slumber lumbers across a gold sky
while we're lost, but quiet
i am questionless and content
because it is too unreal to completely remember
without laughter and small photographs.
and we'll never find our way
around those twisted roads again
because it is a different time and another place
that we may barely remember when we're grey.
the weather, however, treats us quite well
and listens to us sing in our sleep.
tomorrow could be the last day of our lives.