Allow the particle of self
to join the wave of humanity

Tomorrows
always come and go
But, the thought of them
Sometimes, scare me so
They can rock my world
even though
they always melt into
harmless yesterdays

I pity those
who cannot relax at night
For I am sometimes lying there
next to them
wide-eyed in a slow tale of time

Here lies the cat
upon my bed
I walk on by
in silent dread
Careful lest
I wake the pest
and stroke forever
the squatter’s head

I dream of an empty chair
in a field of golden wheat
It’s a lonesome scene of solitude
with no one in the seat
I peer
I stare
Nothing seems to be there
but a surreal world
of Monsieur Magritte

They are the young innocents
unspeakably betrayed
who walk in paths of darkness
not knowing where they have strayed
Products of childhood trauma
built from assembly lines
of dreadful family dysfunction
that left them far behind

Don’t let the traces of
snow on the ground
and the air still yet cold
blind you
to the clouds of March
so thinly painted high in the sky
as to remind us of a Spring yet to come