Someday Life is short, its oft remarked, Too short, theyll say, and drift another day, Mile markers passing, gravestones fey, Dreams once held like children dear Last seen along the desert way, Standing on the baked road shoulder, Staring in mute disbelief at the pulling away, Awaiting the change of heart, surely, A regretful glance back, at least Left, dry-eyed and hopeful, with nothing But to watch the defining lines of intent Merge and melt into the distant liquid lure, The...