Remember the conversations,

an afternoon waltz

upon the tiles of education.

Having lost my niche,

sought out a colleague,

suddenly when in past there was an easy

decorum,

now the response seemed

hesitant, life repeating itself,

seems heard this one.

~

The advice of beleaguerment

having found itself,

really, that inner bind of knowledge,

make it Hollywood,

use a standard plot,

but the reality

so much more eloquent,

holding value

to some hidden

excitement.

~

Only alone in thought,

imagining everyone to walk the same

aisle of conversational suicide.

Yet there are such is the

minion mindset.

There are those moments of clarity,

and saddened surrender

only remains hope that a serenity,

bold in its own candor

does mean peace.

---

© Thom Amundsen