Melancholy is a saint
I am trying to be better than I was. Better than I am.
I am trying to make time stop. Stop. Stop. Dead in its tracks. I want to freeze all time, my time. I want to watch one more football game with my granddad. I want to hear one more war story and eat home made french fries.
I want to have one more butter tart from my Grandma Stacey. One more rum and coke.
I want to learn to make rope, whistles from branches. I want to smell the smoke from the pipe as I eat one more butter tart.
I want to stand on the farm, looking at the horizon knowing that there is a world without end, just beyond that prairie horizon. I want one more endless summer of being kissed by the wind.
I want to reach out and grab that child that was me. I want to tell him that every moment is important. I want to tell him so he wont be me.