The In-Between

For those alive and dead no longer here,

not much has changed.

The sun still climbs out of the trees, still sets

behind Sugar Loaf when winter starts,

still begins another year by moving up the valley,

one click closer to true west each evening now.

The wind still rushes through the pines

still standing where they stood, like me,

so tall now they break the ridge line in the south,

and i'm okay.

If life's a string of heartbreak still

we had some stretches in-between

when we were fine.

I know you never liked The Eagles much

but still i think it wasn't wasted time.