A midsummer's snow shower is always alone
For 7 days and 4 weeks and 9 months
Time is described as numbers without life
Just a visual aesthetic and the makings of a cage
4 letter words describe graffiti over graffiti
4 stall walls don't quite reach the ground
Dangled dust from falling trees dresses the cement
And all this shows more than one number intends
A year passes by like cancelled days on a calendar
Looking and hoping for the future to come
But it's stuck in traffic during rush hour going into the sun
And you're waiting at the door with lit candles on the table and roses
5 minutes late, 20 minutes late, an hour late
Late like the first time blood was missing
A feeling of number control, it has confined you with too many to count
Bubbles have a longer life expectancy when you don’t watch them
Just like a butterfly clock with red spotted wings
Beauty distracts and slips away with the color of leaves
Don't delay that run, skip, or jump for there may not be another chance
Verbs in a basket make a picnic to eat with fingers
Disbelief of the future leads you to the fountain of youth
So make haste and recycle metal on your wrist
The road to reality is not the next left at the oak tree; it's under your feet.