time

and the world
continues to spin.

intense feelings
dull, get weaker.

the solitude was
palatable in the
rooms - the way
he walked thru
them.

and time is a funny
concept maybe.
unrelenting
moments
slipping
forward.

marooned
on the moon
in june, the hero,
or hapless space-
poet, ponders with
perplexing propensity
continuing sending
messages to the
universe at large
and calling it
poetry.

A touch of hope, a whisper in my ear,
A dream inside a dream, together we steer.

Love-struck again, but afraid to pursue,
She likes me, but what should I do?

With each passing moment,
A fondness grows inside.

A shadow is casting,
Time is running through my eyes.