Let's paint this canvas with just one brush..
We'll paint into the night and be outrageous and in no rush..

When is a poem not a poem and just a ramble of spoken words?
This one here is just a thought
that I wanted to be heard.

Dreams filter in as the setting sun plays tag through the trees.
Colors explodes across the sky and all that was today drifts away..

We stand together but so far apart.
Window panes arent the only thing that separates our hearts.

Everyone saw it in the sky.
It came in a rush and then flew by.
It didn't come alone; It came with the Wind and the Rain.
Everyone saw it in the sky.
It left as fast as it arrived.
In its wake nothing stood where it passed by.

Who knew 2020 would be the year  that we all came to fear?
Locked all inside ,isolated, alone and nowhere to hide..
All we heard is stay inside ..
As we wait to hear ..
There is Nothing more to fear.

We sit back and watch the plight of others and shake our heads for their dismay.
We offer prayers and well wishes as we go about our day.
Is it because we dont chose to see or is it easier to view from our side of the street than walk away?