Passin’ Thru Fixed stride, discussing where to meet for a lunchtime date, The lady stays fixated on the road ahead, Ignoring all to either side, And the views they portend. I AM somewhere; in a place I cannot see.
The Shadow on the Floor The Shadow on the Floor What is this shadow on the floor? Unnoticed light peering curiously through a window, Changing density and shapes by way of a passing cloud, Showing the texture of my floor, or not. What is this shadow on the floor?
All the Broken Windows Here I sit, its springtime, not so cold now; And all the windows are now broken, Perhaps because I never moved, Or moved too fast. And never protected myself from the vandals surrounding me.