Sunset

Sunset

I close my eyes

and take a stroll

back in time

against the push

of the Eastern sun

urging me the other way

revisiting old districts

and haunts

enjoying the sorrow

just because it's

familiar

while amusing old ghosts

a child approaches

and we talk about the future

marrying "I" with "will" and "have" and "do"

and laugh and anticipate

and bask in the certainties

of our forcasts

until I notice

the day is getting late

and the child has grown

she's decrepid

her mouth still moves

but her body has atrophied

from lack of use

reminding me the flesh is weak

her favorite excuse

she wants me to keep listening

(but I grow)

resteless and tired

of her company

as I have many times

in the past,

this time more quickly

than before

I realise the neighborhood

is not as glamorous

as I remember,

and I start ignoring

the invalid's protests

I turn from her wails

and face West

lay old hurts and failures

to rest

and I think:

It's going to be a beautiful sunset.