Yesterday I laughed myself out of a poem,
And today I simply lost one. I find it ironic

How the sunshine speaks with the sky so
Romantically, as if offering oil pastel crayons
Like a slightly more dignified child to that
Of his crush in the month of February.

And yet words do not warm, as we we learn
By winter's breath sharply caressing our faces.
I think he speaks to the homeless lady I heard
Coughing and singing a few odd weeks ago.

Yesterday I laughed myself out of a circle,
And today I'm simply lost in one. I find it ironic

It all used to be really simple.
And I'm not talking about
Crayons and sandboxes simple.
I mean,
These people will take care of you,
And these people will love you,
Everything is familiar
And soothing
And unified
And simple.

I'm just a casualty of a war that happened miles away.
I'm not sure of any of the details.
And the aftermath is foggy as well.
I just don't know what happened.
Just that everyone is gone.
Every one who used to love and take care of me.
And who I loved and took care of.

I don't long for sandboxes and crayon simplicity.
Just a time where things were....
When we all were.....
When I knew what the **** was going on.