Almost Times

Around me I watch as the almost days fly Watching the clouds as they fall past, cluttering The ground with miniature puddles. It Peppers my face with wet freckles and fills my orifices with a moistness like The apparitions of children that almost Appear with their skipping ropes, signaling A time for us to start to hope For better times. Waiting for the almost Leaves to unfurl. Wanting for the fires Of summer to burn away the cold that Comes from the absence of cover, leaving Me bare and intently exposed to the Eyes hovering over my branching body. The millions of stars that count the almost nights I lay under the hopeless blue skies. Time does not consist of ultimatums It’s a series of inco