The Tempo of My Chronology
Three nights hence I will dream of the stars,
wake to startling clamor, and promptly forget.
My life undisturbed, my coffee still bitter and yet
three mornings after, I'll be here again.
I'll wonder and wander and weep as I wait
to remember just what I've been told to neglect.
But it won't be 'till after, as I drift off to slumber, that
I'll see them again—and know what I've missed. For
three nights ago I dreamed of the stars,
woke to startling clamor, and promptly forgot.
A/N: This is my first experiment with Decastitch, a 10-line poem style with minimal restrictions. Feedback is much appreciated.