In the pattern of stars

We were there

Some years ago we found a hideaway
a tent already tattered, and we were invisible
not quite children, our words quickly sank
in a common ocean, our dreams
we traced in the pattern of stars

As if it ever mattered who did the work
Save that the work was done
and when the night was over for you two
it was over for we too;
Something tore at us deep in time
Before we were even born

Now that my keyboard gathers dust
I sit outside and see the simple things
that move about in life,
which they tell us to grasp,
Which I let slip by.