What Would Really Be Different?

ashby-brown Poems

I See The Days Roll By They Smell Of Flowers At The Death of Summertime Light Through My Window - A Spinning Fan Seeking Acceptance I Lose The Passion Where Did All The Creation Go? A New Feeling: Heavier Formal Expected Boring How Can I Break Out Of This Shell I've Created For Myself? Each road Eventually Forks. Each path Eventually Ends. Everyone Has Their Way. I see Mine in glimpses: At The carwash. At the grocery. Holding Perhaps a Child With an Ironic Grin on My Face. Maybe Growing Up is Easier Than I'd imagined. I try To envision My life In Another way. Maybe In a Place Where the Walls Aren't so White, The Sun Not so Bright, The night Not so Tight. But, These Crude Imaginings; Are They Real? What Would Really be Different? Excuses For My position Now. Would Things be Better? I don't Know. There's Just This Keyboard In Front of Me and This Beer. What Would Be Different If I Weren't Here? A few Misplaced Feelings, A few Shoes Untied, A few Ignorant Tears. What Would Be Different If I Weren't Here? A Few Things, But Next to That, Nothing.