Little World

Silence seems to settle in broken down buildings.

With stain glass windows that let words in the same way

light drifts through kaleidoscopes into youthful pupils.

These streets have resolved to simple footfalls from empty bodies

We have grown.

Our world is dissolving from everything familiar,

and I am just selfish enough to resent it for going on without me.

Will the street lamps still light when we are no longer here to

watch them come on?

Like a snow globe in the hands of a child,

white wanderings and whispers is all that is left of the town

for miles and miles in every direction.

The dust is settling in patterns I no longer recognize.

We make a pact to return,

and that given time all will be as it were.

but quietly we know it will always be a reflection of days long ago.

so instead promise to remember:

me,

you,

and the snow globe.

And always think fondly of our little dissolving world.