My reply may quick; betray
but, it is yours that morphs to grey;

I'm beside myself, and not from any lice !

I loathe to be me, is what's true
so, the only thing that I can do;

is pick two seats, and calmly sit down twice.

~

A plethoric myriad of thoughts
escapes my brain like small robots

coercing all pedestrians to pause;

good thing for them, the lights glowed, red
for over half, changed their minds, instead;

that break alone saved barrels full of gauze !

~

When we’re old and decaying
And our souls set free
Our limbs will become trees
And from out those trees
Our fingers form leaves
And from out our mouths
Sprout words,
That will form into birds
And these birds will fly
To the peak of the sky
And sing songs that ring
Immortal melodies
That sift through the breeze

EPIPHANIES

I let my silence speak
what words fail to tell…..
meaningless is the flow
of metaphor and rhyme
when you only see
a shadow of me
in space and time.

I wonnder at life's mysteries
and seem to wander too deeply
into myself
only to discover
there are no epiphanies

I feel your joy mamma,
as in the morning sun,
light strikes the diamonds on the trees,
their dripping
makes a music for my thoughts,
shakes bare bushes down below,
as when you too,
went out in morning's air, rejoiced,
took deep breaths, filled your lungs, 
and doing so filled your heart with songs
of happiness, so glad,
not mad you'd say,
just sensing all around,
allowing nature to whisper,
thud, in notes of natural things.