Catching the muse is one thing, but keeping her with you is another —

Death's my sentence and life's my crime.

What's been lost here. Cannot be. Measured. It includes skipping stones and fireflies and races, barefoot, over rock. It includes tap shoes and footlights and a thousand clapping hands. It includes, in no particular order: hair brushes, road trips, leaf piles, pills, barricades, banisters, showers, swings, boats made of newsprint and men made of snow and moreover. It includes a future. A vast unrealized future. So tell me. You tell me. How do you measure that?