We call best years
Unimportant
In the eyes of those
Still ignoring
What miracles dwell
Between moments
So profoundly spent
They’re a blur

Like weekends lost
On arcade games
Or feasts so grand
Food keeps filling
Our famished souls
Merely hungry
For one more meal
Sharing laughs

At that restaurant
Coming back home
Where childhood thrills
Weren’t memories
But times so real
They went missing
Among fleeting gifts
Barely earned

Before just dreams
Hold their truth
Within each soul
Surely willing
If exploring realms
Rarely ventured
After growing old
Far too fast

When this present
Remains ever dull
And filled by fear
Always mounting
While expecting
Another bad reason
Giving purpose
To meaningless ends

Those questions
Killing through hope
Never really alive
Though pretending
How tomorrow’s threat
Appears better
Than escaping today
Going mad.

• J. Pigno