in search of those hours,
that leave no trace of themselves,
when they leave, they just part,
with no long goodbyes and no leftover glances

in pursuit of those hours,
that surrender to the sweetness of the moment,
that are open to the child-like invitation of instinct,
bathe, drench, dissolve, only to be reborn again

in wait of those hours,
which ask no name, nor my raisons d’être,
a nameless encounter, a fruitless engagement,
a chance to be lost, all forgotten but found again

in fear of those hours,
momentary hesitations define life’s disillusionment’s
prolonged silences pollute genuine remembrances
arguments won leave embittered friends

in wake of those hours,
color pilloried, class discredited,
past forsaken, future outwitted,
present resurrected, moment embraced

in sight of those hours,
words spoken, not evaluated,
eyes widened, not distracted,
hearts opened, arms stretched