…that once upon a time
was time enough for us,
back in the day
when clocks were all beside
the point, yet there were only clocks
to tell and toll the time, the toil
of hours before a cell became the foil…
…that memory is the rosebud
of our history as we downslide
in helpless thrall through drifts
of time, image as miniature as heads
of pins, the re-collection of
the coinage of our realm, and we
the hapless, helpless hopeless royalty.
….that youth is frittered away on itself
by the young, the music of the spheres
a scrannel screech across the thin fabric
of living from time to time, in ever smaller increments,
love and faith and fear and trust like spools
of thread all interwoven with each other….
…that dreams are links along a chain
encircling the world as it might be,
each dream a capsule to be swallowed,
a code to be deciphered, a cryptic key
that might unlock the only door
you ever dreamed of entering,
love the will-of-the-wisp we follow
like footsteps in the sand….
Dan Pettee, a native New Englander, currently operates his own freelance writing business. He’s had poems published in a wide range of journals including Chicago Review, Texas Review, Amherst Review, Descant, Negative Capability, and Cape Rock Journal.