Page O' Poems  

    I think back on better days.

This dark room, this ticking minute,
hangs on me like a wet tuxedo.
She is whispering in my ear,
but my mind is rolling over;
Thoughts tumble through my head
to land here on the floor.

This still body, this fleeting second,
is mine, but used by all the others.
There was a summer once,
and we danced under the trees;
When the sky fell open, only you
were there to smile for me.

This one season, that endless moment,
was ours, made for us alone.
We turned from those that frowned
and, holding hands, did sing.
The clouds didn't bother us then
for we knew how to walk away.

--George Caybin

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