Xitlali

Once I thought I knew, now life's so short, you have to pay the dues, on this late spring night, when the kids don’t phone, a fire gives no respite, no books or other hues, paint traces where to court, on trails we well used, who knows if we're right, those of us who fought, others only asked for hire, you were never overuled, even if the ones you taught, belong to other schools, whenever there’s a time, to parade passing thoughts, let's bring them light, forget all the blues, don't make me postpose, heing happy on balloons, blown far from home.