The Limits of Our Years

the limits of our years, our lives, played out, in forgotten remembered moments, flayed, like hearts hung out, battered by wild winds, as eyes of children, looking back, reflect we aged ghosts, of their future's past, those young legs run, burning, burning, like they've captured the sun, as we, pale melancholic ones, floating by our summer's home, long not for the place, but for childhood long gone, and to these ones, these new and shining ones, who never were before, plugged now into tattered hearts, a soul cut into crystal cable, that burst out, love like plasma flowers, blanched into flowing springs, cool running down the mountain, follow burning heels, for the rest of our lives...