Tulips
Common, trusted, beloved.
Planted in gardens, gifted in joy,
Welcomed without a second thought.

And then—me.
Fragile, fleeting, misplaced.
Sought only in sorrow, left to wither,
A beauty seen too late,
A name too easily forgotten.

Lycoris Radiata.

They "lost" you didn't they?
Misplaced you fairly far away I'm sure,
How it's always it's an accident or a situation blur,
When they cast you off in the fray.

I sit in the crowded lecture hall,
Surrounded by faces, not talking at all.
I try to blend in, to fit the mold,
But inside, I feel so withold.

I came here to learn and grow,
To find my place, to let my soul flow.
But as I listen to the professor speak,
I feel so lost, so weak.

I crave a place where I belong,
Where I can be myself, and sing my own song.
But until then, I'll keep on trying,
Hoping one day, I'll stop denying.

For though I may feel misplaced,
I know I am loved and embraced,
By those who care, and by the stars above,
Guiding me with endless love.

So many “road stories”
from the Odyssey, and Kerouac, to Augustine.
Each rich in emotion and spirit
most of the stories
have the hero hitched to a fellow traveler
to bathe the soul in word and mood
to throb with the music.

I have recurring dreams.
I’m in a hotel looking for an elevator
can’t find my floor or room
or can’t find my car downtown.
I wander streets, and lots.
Are there road stories hidden in these dreams?

Why do I trip, fall
stay misplaced and lost
find only
transitory
destinations?

Misplaced deliberations,
        oh where did  I leave you?

Like mislaid socks,
              I wear
mismatched thoughts

nicely fitting but not right.