I was never grateful for now,
and it’s harder with each passing season
to give little more than contented sound
amid ever reducing reason.
But I had my chance to see the stars,
had my time to lose myself,
had moments to see the reason for arts.
I lived beyond my bookshelf.
And, maybe, now a mile
is exactly what it is;
no longer just a while
to reconnect with bliss.
I regret the closing window of a future I won’t know,
but am grateful for the hours, afar and here at home.

© Blake Leitch March 6, 2019

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