Days

long next days spread like leaves

after the wind bares naked the autumn bough.

the days stretch to the distance,

in the map of time, to "here be dragons."

always more, never the less coming

faster but soft. each day a page

for memories to be written. the scabbard

of a past as yet unwrought. the days

are pain, are fear, and rage

hanging in the future gallows. dropped hard

to the pit of the past, the hangman says

there is nothing to save and the

world has lost its way.