I notice the group of homeless people I see every morning
However this morning they are fully involved in some sort of drama
I notice how one man puts his arm around the other man
I notice the humanness, the support, the love and care

I notice the woman with the **** on her back
It pushes her fully forward so she can't see the sky
I notice her and her husband walking along by the sea
I notice how he is holding her hand
The sight fills my eyes with tears
I hope they go and drink a coffee and share a slice of carrot cake
I hope he kisses her cheek and tells her he loves her
I imagine a blanket of love enveloping them both

I notice the woman with the gold sandals and bunch of floweres sticking out her bag
I notice her dishevelled hair and clothes
I sense her aloness
Her sandals and floweres make me smile
I hope they make her smile too

The moments of beauty
The human need for love, beauty and support
These moments are all around
Within the sadness and dark realities
They are there
The magic is there

For the first time I noticed,
that I am not the only one.

For the first time I saw,
that they knew how I felt.

For the first time I felt,
how hard confrontation is.

For the first time I saw,
how what I did hurt them.

They tell me to write about love,
but I'm not sure I know
what that is.

Is it the warm feeling,
the soft sigh listening to
the smooth sounds of Sinatra,
or is it the insane laughter,
the inability to wipe the smile
from my face,
when I'm with you.
Is it the in between moments,
just noticing,
noticing the quiet, lovely things,
the silence that isn't
all that silent

Maybe, but

It surely isn't the
feeling of home or
the prayers to God,
or the shouts of rage,
the obligations,
or the "have-to's"

If its love because
it's supposed to be,
because you should,
then I don't want it.
I don't want that "love"

Hair
Downy Feathers
Nails
Slivers Of  Perfect Moons
Eyes
Icicles Falling

                                                        ­                    Smiling
                                     ­             Smashed China Plates
                                                          ­                Walking
           Nonchalant Juxtaposed To My Erratic Heart
                                                           ­               Running
              Time Standing Still As You Sail Through It

Without pause
Without flare
It steals itself away
Never to return
And to be all but forgotten