In the Meantime

"and you won't make a sound or be nervous around piles of pictures,
so old that it feels like it is ending
it's not too late now to change your mind
the grass gets greener when you get to the finish line."

[From the song: The Owls Go, by Architecture in Helsinki]

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In the Meantime

She cuffed the hands that counted your seconds,
Said there's no such thing as a low tide.
You stood on thirsty shorelines
Waiting for a kiss from the moonlight.
And it was in that darkness, eve of harvest,
Where you settled who was richer;
She would skip stones on every sand dune
While you tallied with her toes and fingers.
There was no storm or eclipse the night you ditched her
And you won't make a sound or be nervous around piles of pictures.

You don't seem to mind that life is a work of fiction
When you need a piece of paper to cross imaginary lines,
And a handful more to keep your belt buckle tight.
She brought you to the ends of the Earth
To see the mirror lining the edge of the cage
For an illusion of freedom you spent your life defending.
She flipped the hourglass upside-down with closed eyes,
Bidding you warn her when it was over.
The promise lies between sofa cushions in pending,
So old that it feels like it is ending.

No one dares look the sun in the eye;
It's easier to watch faulty clockwork
Than to risk misplacing a gear.
You stood in line, holding your breath,
And while waiting to be rescued,
You nonchalantly left behind
The only one who sighed in your direction.
She was hiding under the spotlight, whispering,
With a smile burned out and undefined,
It's not too late now to change your mind.

It was her that tied the string around your finger
That leads to open seas beyond the boondocks.
You tangled it in a scrapbook, and forgot
Where to look when the moon taps your window.
Alarms wiped away your senses, with mornings
Routine, yet impossible to divine.
You kept a steady heartbeat, pacing yourself
Even when you didn't know the way.
And though you still don't believe in design
The grass gets greener when you get to the finish line.

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*note: the verse i took from The Owls Go is not consecutive, as the structure of a glosa intends, but it was what i found when i looked up the lyrics of this song, (which i had only heard twice so i didn't realize it was a mistake). since i started working on the poem without double-checking, it's just something i'll have to live with, even if it's not a perfect glosa.