We believe we are,

a contemporary to what once seemed

a regularity,

yet we cannot seem to get past

the truth.

Do you, we, can everyone

feel it in the moment,

when we least desire to be noticed,

that fear returns,

always knocking on our door.

This thing about love,

when least expected,

human beings crossed paths,

in the eyes of hate we fail

no longer knowing how to feel.

Pull back and reject that moment,

travel on,

find a newer horizon,

funny thing though,

there might appear on your doorstep.

A quiet tear will always remain when unrequited

certain love becomes contained in societal fare.

© Thom Amundsen 5/2020

inspired by Joy Williams – Front Porch – 2019