Immersed In Time
You and I
are a late written rock song.
Free of all things,
children mithering, grandchildren whining,
mothers judging, fathers chastising
with a frown that won every battle
before a shot was fired.
We are punks, imps, elves,
quare fellows, hippies in recluse
with the freedom
to grump at the world
and to love it all the same.
Your soft-soled socked feet
press into the carpet that’s marked
by all the years, like we are.
My tendency to flutter off the carpet
and fly away in a fit of dreaming or fury
is anchored by those feet.
They step,
and step, unconscious,
but you know what you’re after.
We are born late
at just the right moment
and wander like strangers,
your light bringing the silence,
and we are immersed in time.
