I Can See

self-shot

                              self-shot

Which one are you in the midst of time,

a clever rendezvous in life’s sweet climb.

~

Perhaps you held the key to love all along

the rest being shelled, wanting to belong.

~

I watched a moment twenty years ago today

that’s what you meant, acting in that plaintive way.

~

If we could choose, a certainty in our attitude

I’d bet we’d lose, our need to attack Beatitudes.

~

Inside this active room, I might notice things,

a flair to be just whom, all while the pendulum swings.

~

That couple speaking sweet, then who we were

playing only to the beat, of saying, we were here.

~

Over in the corner, near the exit door,

sits an old reminder, of just what’s in store.

~

In the back room earnest, they design their moments

fresh in mind they cannot rest, when wined in their torments.

~

The conversations about, are all the same to me,

there is the devout, and over there the wannabe.

~

The setting the same, we might all remain

caught in a new game, similarly lost in gain.

~

While we watch each other, grow and blossom anew

we might still remember, or at least I will, of you.

~

Sitting Amongst Each Other

parkbench

We are all here,

together again in the same room,

we walk different paths,

together we need directions,

though if face you in the eye

suddenly that desperation,

fear that mocks our very sanity

steps inside my realm,

tweaks the moment …

where did all the peace go,

that just minutes before exists,

when we don’t, we can’t, perhaps we’re just not ready,

to look one another in the eye again,

If only for a split-second,

a time frame no one can really allow a measure,

perhaps just then,

when I glanced your way,

you might see me,

smiling

Perhaps I am just hoping,

yet, I find it a far better angle,

than to remain terrified of that which

I haven’t any idea

sits nearby,

peaceful, like.