mezzanine

that sky beyond the clouds,

where a frail bird can fly,

over unturned, tortured soil,

over older hearts,

in a park,

pickling in the youthful sun,

but we can't stay here for long,

you'll be moving on,

and I'll be gone,

fallen into the fractures,

that shake the fault lines of time,

but what if it could be different?

something original and new,

you could stand at a distance,

I might connect and hit it to you,

or even past the difference between what I say,

and what I mean,

over a sea of wild and wide open eyes,

into the mezzanine.