Bright eyed and alive,
I keep giving minutes away,
floating around conversation,
I stand impassive, delayed.

Reminiscing about days tinted white and maroon,
lingering walks home and glances across yards and classrooms.
Weekend landings, punctuating adolescent play in busy halls,
capital distraction from cross country journeys,
cut short by train station phone calls.

Too much time spent holding sand,
grasping at what went before,
inspired by nights on drunken streets
and a fondness for a dirty dance floor.

So I sit, idling,
reducing myself to redundant trial,
mired and sunk deep,
swimming in the saddest smile.