A Time For Us Poem by Bladerunner

It's the back scratching we like,
Just before sleep. Pushing off,
Dispelling all dramas -
Taking up the weights. When we wake,
You at four, me at six to follow, we fight

And wrestle this great un-anchoring,
The unlocking of fingertips
With a curtain crack of awkward light,
Sets us off like concrete -
Puts memories to resin. Our lips

Decay as this bloody day brings disuse.
It has no care for sentiments - has muddy boots.
We are stationed by it,
Done over by school runs and bus stops -
Three meetings a week. How do we fit

Back in, will it be the kids
We hobble at - the pick-ups at three,
The bus route home at six
That navigate our course and flight,
A chariot stride back to night?

Or will it be the simple thought of passing by,
To not take up this frame once more
And put out religion, this old definition of us
That raged and blazed so long ago,
Shimmers now a tired ember.