Seven

Forgive me, did I say that out loud?

Forgive them, the intrusive thoughts within;

The dreams within dreams that aren’t allowed;

The fortunate words that are without sin.

My mind does often wonder to times

So far beyond our own. Maybe seven

Years ahead, which start after these rhymes.

Maybe once we’re there it’s called heaven.

And seven times that time we might

Not have much. A world that burns

And falls before us, without much light

Or hope. But so quickly life turns.

And maybe then I’ll hold you, and

Have that to live for. But that’s

Too far ahead, getting out of hand.

I know there are no easy paths.

My mind so often drifts in disbelief

Of what life has lead me to.

I’m here with you, I’m not brief,

In words; yet that’s fine with you.

So I can’t help but think sometimes

Of making the bed for us, together.

But dreams can so often become crimes,

I know it isn’t now or never.

I’m sorry for this late night text;

The future is here and I now know.

For when we’re dead and buried next

To each other purple flowers will grow.