a bullet through the wind…
I am young,
not as young as I should feel though.
The life I live, the love I give…
is it sufficient, or is it sorry?
I could not be missing out on much,
here in the days of my ‘carefree’ youth…
Birds awakened me today with
sounds of chirps and cheeps.
What thoughtful thorough noises in the
midst of my illness.
Even with stiff limbs and these
dusty-eyed peeps, I
pulled back careless covers and e-
scaped the stained stillness.
Walking grounds again…
Mother won’t repent…
as I bundle up myself,
sifting through the morning belt.
White covers the day…
dimmer than the grey…
where’s the bright side of the sun?
Where’s this so-called springtime fun?
As. snow. falls. from
some insane cloud, my
ears. they. stall. from
some flakes so loud, but I’m
keeping my head high,
or at least I’ll try to
brave the cold… this
Light traffic on the way home,
low lights waver above the roof.
Night has not changed shape;
neither has the sound of the radio.
I cannot even recall the scent of the highway air
with the window cracked open.
This is simply a somber affair,
yet it keeps my mind from the realms
of more turbulent realities.
To Planet Y, I carry on.