Your pencils, my trick tracks

Why is it we can’t seem to
catch a break
with our hands open
and desperate in disguise?

When all we ask for
is an extension in a series
of hours we happen to be present
around one another.

But not a single worry arises
when I open these eyes
to see the path we lay down
piece by peace.

To our three, four or seven.
Our fights and make ups.
Our travels, our laughs.
Your pencils, my trick tracks.