Memory In Advance

It’s all shades of green and heartache.
Muted to let the air out. I keep telling
myself this isn’t it. But you’re farther
than the horizon and I can’t stop
this slow procession across the shore.
If only there were some sort of explanation
a story we could share among friends
of the time we let the wind take our breath,
that soft percussion hinting at so much more.