As the beach pulls at the grains of sand,
Your forgiveness tugs at the corners
Of my reddened eyes.

on a gentle breeze
fluffy dandelion seeds
did saunter around

Like we are  traveling
by rail
through bucolic scenes of villages
hamlets and vineyards

with the sun bright-eyed
and fresh
in a sky that's marbled
and blue

it's the concerto
we hear when we
close our eyes
plug our ears

and write the
music
to the soundtrack
of our lives

Whit Howland © 2020

i  listen to him while i smoke a cigarette
peaceful morning while he tells me his regrets
but that's why we're all here right?
regrets, drugs, addiction, the tempting night?
he talks about his wife and i listen
i miss being numb. his forehead glistens
i watch the smoke rise and disperse
i stop listening. i start to think about the universe
i think i'm a narcissist