Days without numbers like childhood keep time
and days will expand with
experiments
explode like city lights, limitless
sounds
high notes with clashing
chords, riotous trills.
But safer still in wafer
thin listens
days learn the hard beauty
of quiet,
return into suburbs, well-known
corners
streets where the old
tunes become the new tunes
footpaths of footfalls,
soft beat, newfound skip
putting behind them old
melancholies
knowing of conversing there’s
not much time,
and that much more that cannot
be played out
is said in silence in wild
countrysides
without borders, suburbs
without number.


