Footfalls

He watched the window shed the light upon his face
He spent no dead time telling us we won't be late
Please buy my buried golden beach house by the grave
I heed my own footfalls letting my mind walk away
Addressing all the time
Should I be leaving before I begin to see?
Had I been lost in truth or spite could I have left my hands alone
No licence
I should try to hear myself more often
To look up
To be in the present
That infinitesimal
How long can it go?
A crumpled grass and a field in bloom in purple over last year's green
A dog that never tires
Still they float farther apart
Seeing age grab hold of me too
But are we shifting with years?
How do I feel?
Is there a castle looming in the back of this painting?
If there is is there any way I can avoid visiting?
Tame it
How about some noise
Waiting a whole sentence to set the tone
Waiting a whole set to miss someone else's over rude ambient noise
I wish it turned out