I wonder where you are going

and what you’re doing way up, out



Are you late or on time,

are you busting through the door

to catch me, mid sprint.


Winded at the sight of your arms,

collapsing into particles of dust,

catching my breath to realize

that you’re already gone.


Wherever you are

I hope it’s an everlasting golden hour.

I hope that you remain there,

present and laughing;

asking me the same 50 questions

Just one more time.

You know that I know

all of the answers.

© 2017 by Mara Hasenstaub. Proudly created with Wix.com

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