Lukewarm

Swift stepping stirred up glory,
reflective frosted trojan breath
dances for a time, like a falling glass
and comes to earth when it's late enough.
Noir sipping logic hands you your time
and really,
what could it say if you asked it why?

Peppered flagstones greet you in the morning
as they sidle back to bed,
their blanckets thicker every time
and their grins, a little wider.
No cushions for toads though, and it never makes sense,
not to you, as you stride away past them
and again, later, when you come limping back.

Through mossed up veins and dripping waters,
that you can't accept
and won't perfect,
always you hurry, with your silly green light
and I'd say we both know
that you'd love to kneel down and ask for more time.
Maybe you remember,
but maybe you're lying.
Think on what's owed you
if you always sit down, and scrub the squalor from your shoes