i read poetry in the morning
with chai, stains awoken
and i’d like to believe
i can remember at least one hundredth
of the photomemoirs i’ll make
walking home from science class today;
because that walk is all my heart sees
and my brain knows not
to see things how i would write them -  
.
then i noted the monarch butterflies
dancing to the tunes of their
pheromonic wingharp love unknown,
swiftly along colorful breezes;
when i walked home,
and then i felt this strange feeling -
there is too, a beauty in being alone