I see the moon in its waning phase

The cold,dark night it chose to embrace.

Turning itself into crimson orange and white,

illuminating the surroundings with its light.

It sinks itself and is nowhere to be seen.

The street lamp flickers,

leaving me thinking

If my eyes could take pictures.

The sky is the unusual shade of purple and blue,

the sun will show itself soon.

My lungs enjoy the fresh air

while my body screams for rest.

The breeze hits my body and makes me shiver

My eyes are desperate to click this picture.

The clouds form an unusual pattern,

something even my phone refuses to capture.

A delay of a few seconds and it's gone.

8 megapixels are not enough for this beauty.

The sun continues to shine fiercely.

Here I stand questioning myself,

Why can't my eyes take pictures?

The sky is a beautiful mixture of two

one half of it is orange,the other blue.

Sweat stings my eyes and my body

screams for relief.

But the view of the sky is something I refuse to believe.

In a matter of minutes, it turns itself into electric blue.

Making a breathtaking view.

Someday our human eyes will be strong enough,

Someday they will take pictures.

Someday we shall look past our desire to be perfect.

And live life hard with every breath.

In the corner of the street
a man plays an old guitar
Nobody notices him
He continues to gaze at the stars
The city's noise
Is capable of drowning his voice.
He plays without hesitation
Never asking for attention.
He can't afford anything new
The kindest,
give him a dollar or two.
His lifestyle is frugal.
They say he owned a fancy hotel.
His strings are worn out
but the sound is clear
His only love is his beer.
In the corner of the street,
a man plays an old guitar
The same one
who never sang about his broken heart.