There is something about the twos and threes that gets mixed.
One week ago is clear, two weeks is too, but now that I get to three I’m not sure,
was it two weeks ago you left, or more?
As the days and years grow and we try to be exact about the time
it all seems to blend back together again.
And perhaps it was never meant to be taken apart or studied like that in the first place.
The idea of time is a crude means of control, these calendars and clocks,
these fake lines around the days, these chimes.
Who are we to carve it up this way? Why not live by the light?
So now the time is different since you left, and the days take on a different slant,
and mine are spent walking to the lake thinking about you,
wondering has it been two weeks now or three
and how many more will it be?