Legs and Hearts

Above me turns a grieving moon,

I can't sleep

So I walk the night with memories:

Of a city of young men dreams,

Cars pass by

Early winter, 

I roll my shoulders 

Pull at my woollen collar,

Turn my hood above my ears,

I stop at a parking lot like a hundred days,

Empty, 

But for memories,

Of a city of young men dreams,

Seems a hundred years when--

We fought against our enemy lives.

With wooden sticks and curved blades

We rushed into a frozen made up game,

To hold onto a ball no one could control

We've all grown old--I assume

But in the end I know we disappear,

Rushing the goal--

before the night steals the evening light,

before the air gets too cold,

before legs and hearts grow too sore,

The ball races wide along the net...

Is it only me who cheers under a grieving moon?

Perhaps I've walked too far, 

Perhaps I think too much,

Recall too much of youth and the cold,

My legs and heart are sore

Time to go home...I'll walk the parking lot...disappear along a make believe