I'm not even sure what I am writing anymore,
A poem? A warning? some fleeting memory?
Penning the things inside of me
that demand some sort of release

How I cried on my drive home
as the sky above me melted into
a finger painted sunset
The shades and shapes there for but a moment

The way I heard the words of woman tonight
That brought me to my knees
Stories that ripped at the fibers of my heart
Saying all the things I have
tried so desperately to put to page
In such an ease that left me reeling

The man who stands on his pedestal
crying out for the world to listen
Knowing he is nothing more but
background to those on their morning commute

The kiss of a young couple
shared along the seawall
I wonder if they could
taste the salt in the air
on each others lips

These are things I take for granted
These moments in between