Small Things.

Photo by jana müller

Everyone reaches their final harbor eventually, but has the journey been rewarding, or it just glided by?

Thank You!

“Blooming flower on the sidewalk.”

I miss the trees
that I have never seen,
my woods are lonely
metal lampposts,
on the streets of a foreign city.

I miss the time,
mirrored in the iris of my eye,
when people got drunk
on the beauty of life.

Small things,
seen as insignificant and given,
schedule, rush, and angry phone call
is the main focus of the mind,
rest is adorable decoration,
for this staged performance.

Gas,
accelerator kissing floor,
pushed by the manic psychopath,
and I’m the passenger,
desperate to jump,
but leather belt
around my arm,
tying to the seat,
donating heat and gloom.

Blooming flower on the sidewalk,
how did you survive, the cold the rain,
rubber wheels and giant feet?

Spill your secrets
on my canvas,
teach me the wisdom,
of your narcosis sleep
fuddle me with the
juices of your leaf.

Car deconstructed into pieces,
driver also,
all that’s left
are the essence, soul, and music,
surrounded by the ancient woodland,
whispering astrology in my ear.

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