That Framed and Famous Day
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With starting lines in measured meters
Down back alleys we would run.
Asphalt drawn with borrowed paint
Against each other’s clocks.
However matter what the speed,
Our youth could not outrun
The dimming of the light.
We ran with ragged t-shirts flying white,
Battle-flags of poverty and youth.
Swiss cheese costumes trailing
From tanned-skin bodies.
Cloud-like storms in herds of two.
We ran with hearts
Pressed to the light
In hopes our wild youth protect us
From the newborn world
Of sudden fright.
Our elders
Could not understand
The pull.
Running into daytimes perfect wink.
Running into night,
By solitary streetlamp light
On solitary phalanx pole
Down alleyways
Of forming memories made.
Breached in manufactured steel;
Not by this
Or any other time be stole.
Gasping children, long run through
Our mothers’ gaping doors.
Frozen captured moments
Now slow released in modest rapture.
Passing age
Deflating each ones soul.
We hooked our hearts
On borrowed time
Toward winters frosty grip.
Sang songs of summer youth before
Our child-time might slip
So sure away;
That framed and famous day.
Time endures through rhyme
As life is read by passing glance:
Oh could we be now more wishful,
Stilled in plea,
With grace of God,
For roads we long to trod
When given one more chance.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2021
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