fleeting,
it was fleeting.

like the look out of a car window
at a beautiful stranger’s face.

like the peak of the wave
that tickles the sky.

like the flash of lightning
that fractures the night.

but it wasn’t,
it wasn’t fleeting.

it was beginning to fall
with no parachute and no safety net.

it was a new book
with every page remembered.

it was a new city
different and yet your home.

it’s never simple,
never just fleeting.

it lasts and remains
in spite of its numbered days.

it persists and maintains
in spite of the few shared moments.

it echoes and rings
in spite of all its unanswered ‘what ifs’.

Photo courtesy of Florian Wehde

Categories: Poetry