Captured

I call on you
in a poem

a million miles
from tonight,

the magic
locked,

twenty years,
thirty years,
sixty years,

wind, time, air, chance,

life's
a different grind,
we come out
a different us,

walking home drunk

alone,

sophisticated,

eccentric,

cool with experience,

sell out free,

doing it our way,
hurt and all,

as if
nothing feels
awful empty,

pouring,

captured
scattered
punching air
to breath

kissing
the moon
through the eyes
of a dreamer

unwilling
to give in.