The time passed 

It crawled, then raced 

The jumps were high 

The tucks were low 

 

Claustrophobia had been a friend 

Then the walls fell 

Leaving an open space, lonesome and empty 

Microscopic icicles on skin cells 

 

No jacket nor map 

No footprints in dirt 

No echoes to follow 

The wind is harsh 

 

No hands to hold 

No choreographed steps 

No voice on the line 

The trees are tall 

 

Peer over tall grass 

Duck behind logs 

Gravity will roll bodies down hills 

And time will pass again