a september afternoon…

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she stood aloof watching the barrage
her lowered eyes hiding the glaze
the september sun toyed with her hair

the platform abuzz with all the crowd
nameless faces and bustling bodies
trains that came and went and carried along
lives & song and destinies all at once

he stood solid, sipping his tea
his mind alive with all that could be
his face a mask of urbane sanity

the scent of jasmine drew him in
as did her silhouette in chiffon
one look at her was all it took
to reign in thoughts of september, 2002

she boarded a train bound for west
he watched from afar, strangely bereft

never let me go

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you and i, we’ve met before
before the winding alleys to my home changed
where daisies met every morning to greet the sun
and music wafted from the apartment above
the road where i walked to the bus stop and
stopped to chase the little ducklings along the way
you and i have met before
before i forgot the way to your home
the one that has that tea shop for four
and around the bend, waters blue
with doves so white and pristine true
we’ve been apart chasing dreams, some elusive, some real
but the moon’s been out each night, leaving a trail
you and i we’ve met before
I’ve just forgotten the way home.

the best part of waking up..

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…is to watch the morning unfold, looking as inviting as buttered toast. The sun is out and someone in the apartment has decided to liven things up by playing the saxophone….it’s odd I always relate the sax to a moonless night. For a brief moment I think I hear the flutter of pigeons…getting breakfast I suppose? As for me I shall squander away the morning for its mine to give. Nothing beats the feeling of warm sun on your back and the spectacle called life.