How must my ghosts feel?
Aging beyond their deaths?
Gathered flock –
Blue Light Hazes.
Golden Motes Of Light.
Shall We Play Numbers?
Any Kind You Like.
Continue on,
Ever-haggard grit.
You,
Forever Fourteen.
Your smile as clear as day.
You,
Ballfield-low orange-pink sky,
Beer in hand.
Pass you;
Soon.
Forever Fourteen.
