Against the Years

(I know what I mean in this poem, and I'm serious.)

I'm running, running to reach,
The years that started to sail,
Long before I fathomed what sailing is;
And, somehow, I almost fail.

But each time you smile and scintillate,
Hope defines itself,
I guess, it's never too late,
All we need is a little help.

So, I called the angels;
Telephones, in heaven, do exist;
Better than those happy-ever-after tales,
Our story's on top of the list.

So, call the angels and say your pray'r,
Then stop walking and wait;
I shall see you when I get there;
There, where the years are destined to meet.

[December 2013]