drums

My drum from childhood. And now a child has broken it.

Carried through many reckless nights of blissful revelry, we play, sing, pour ourselves out to Time.  And Time comes with the image of ourselves to break the things we were.  To bring us to something new.  A new song.

To tell the truth: the tear began a long time ago, and I carried it so many years, and played my songs upon its wound.  Now a child finishes what childhood began.