A little old man
With a can of coca cola
And the simplicity of existing
Sat at a table as I came and made my own place
Next to the diverse fresh faced instrument bearing men
People come and go
On bicycles
Children twirl
Photos taken on camera phones
A woman shimmies in the sunlight.

My hair is a multitude of colors
I'm always tired
But I'm thankful.

I'm thankful to be listening
Feeling
Seeing
Tasting
And there are little minor moments
Folks
That knock me down
But I massage my own back and just think
I've come this far
I'll always make it out alive
Heres to hoping they do too.

I'm sad about Orlando
I think all of America must be
We walk around the big concrete jungles hoping everyone can care
Place your wounded ego and pain aside
Don't you see the value in each others worth?

And I could think
And write a thousand poems
About how much I wish I could just meet some solid
Courageous
Proud to be on my arm
Beautiful man
But I surrender to the fact
That he will just show up when he does
Worries and fears, set them aside
I go to bed alone
And treasure it at this moment.

The faces of the audience
They look so content
Joyous
I return to sacred ground
When I need strength and newness
The most.