sitting at the edge of a red brick wall,
playing games and pretending that we won’t fall –
well, here we find ourselves again,
birthing dreams anew.
chasing the world and promising we’ll both make it
you gave me your hand and just told me to fake it;
nothing’s changed but the games we played,
yet here we are again.
time passes in strands that catch flame and crown,
a forest fire that rages until one of us drowns –
but these are just our days, we know,
and here we go again.
because what else can we do, what else would there be?
a world that’s not true, a you without me?
you told me that day that we were going to make it –
and look, here we are again.
what happens from now, neither of us know,
but as winter turns into slow-drifting snow,
I imagine a time and a place exactly one year ahead –
two children still playing on that red brick wall,
with new games, maybe, and one of them might fall,
but the other will catch their hand and say,
see, I told you –
and here we are again.
Happy birthday to my dear friend I. Until we meet again! ❤