seventy-three (the arc of a bird’s flight)

by nike, June 7, 2017

after we are dead
nobody will remember

the way you looked at me this afternoon
or the way your hand / grazed by sunlight
perfectly described the arc
of a bird’s flight

someone else
will walk along this road / and see
that same tree / older now
and bent
towards some other sky

even we will not remember
what we felt that day / when
joy bound us together

when we believed / just for
a moment / in the future

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