I can’t help but glance again at
Mrs. Metro.
I bet she’s also into reading.
It’s in the way she holds that phone—
Four fingers aligned,
Slightly tilted downwards,
Leaving little space between them,
The usual grip of a story.

She must be passionate,
Mrs. Metro,
About the little things.
I can tell by her voice,
Its melody shifting
Between highs and lows,
The sound of a soul that cares,
Even for those who don’t.

Mrs. Metro
Meets my glance
When I pass her,
Drawing close.

When her leg brushes mine,
It’s just a simple touch.
Laid down in the grass with me,
It’s really no fuss.

She's such a lady,
Lovely gazes,
Make me feel hazy,
Waiting for her hand.

May it be love next time,
May my beloved nest-time.

Big boy,
Smiling on the outside.
Grinning,
masking for those nearby.

Laughing
at his haircut.
Deep breaths
tough guy—own up.

Big boy,
colder than an iceberg.
Brother,
melt a bit when life hurts.

No use
feeling so rough.
Deep breaths
tough guy—own up.

Big boy,
Big heart.

Please

don't change

my love—

i'll stay,

and slave

my tied heart

away.

It’s a girl,
Just like you,
Waiting for the bus
With those coffee curls.
It’s in the way they twirl
That she reminds me of you.

When I saw her,
My heart paused-
A quiet pull
Toward yesterday.

I’ve found solace
In yesterday-

For yesterday is no more.
No worries,
No weight,
Just a fading memory
Of your coffee curls.

The earthy scent
Still warms my chest
As I wake
Lost again
To yesterday