…the future is a faded song, a Royal Rose or a lavender spray
Of wistful regret for those who are not yet here to regret,
Pressed between yellow leaves of a book that has never been opened.
And the way up is the way down, the way forward is the way back.
If you’re happy in a dream, does that count?
…and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.