Biding Time

In the old days, the sting of the pavement Would cushion our bones while we ran We'd tread the water until the waves meant Nothing but curves and a pension plan The clock would watch our eyes shift From youthful mass to wrinkled mist While seas of green rattled our feet And blindness took hold of all we could see With ebullient eyes we searched for hope The grounds of ruin dictating all we spoke Could you read us through an hour glass, You'd say: Let us bleed onto our past Let the cold pin us to the wind Our words tear open before they can mend Let our dreams shape us at last Our failures subside, our dark memories lapse