It’s okay.

that the years

have passed

like seconds

in a summer’s day

for him

they are eternal

slow in passing

and transformative

what stays

is here

inside

curled up

under a blanket

by the fire

and the smell

of sweet wood

burning.

And the rubber ball

that smells like

pavement.

this is

what we create

and stays

long after

we are gone.

© i.i.