Day 16: Of Missing Days

There are those who we will tell we chase days, till they run out on us. Till the next one begins or the promise of a next day gives you solace at night. A long ride home and sometimes finding the quiet in the back seat of the car as you stare outside for a long time. The city lights flicker and glimmer between the edges of the building as you make your way between the street blocks. The cold fall wind talks to you about a day that disappears without knowing sometimes, a day that disappears and while coming back from the lab a bunch of people randomly playing music at the Sample gates reminded me of how we challenge the passing of time. What is ephemeral is who we are at any given moment, and yet who we are is one of the important things we hold dear. So here's to the missing days, the ones that are logged and written about in places in your mind. Who's collecting ? Who's keeping track?

Of Missing Days
And then there are days that have but come and gone,
   And written about like old rhymes at the end of the day.
That have stayed on only for a while if they can,
   And refused to give up on the places that makes them this way.

The definition, the faults and follies that falls through the cracks of time,
   When no one keeps tracks, no mistakes are kept for review.
The tired and weary walk to the doors we unlock,
   Where the world is on the other side, and for now stays out of view.

Of missing days we write, we sample a lit of life and carry it along,
   We take what was the best of us, and sometimes even we can't carry it on.
We pack our bags light at times, we fold and unfold what we take,
    Like the little bit of sunset, a little bit of smile and a little warmth this fall.