Friday, January 15, 2010



Late blooming pansies outside my
They twist with the breeze, so
Casual in it's existence
I twist with them, a lazy current that
Understands the destination, but is
Glad to ride the journey
Soft petals and dripping leaves
Shudder as the breeze stops and
All that is left is stale air
A stale odor from a room never opened
Fills my apartment for you can't
See light and warmth in a place
The smell is everything
My apartment is dead though I do not
It was never alive enough for
Me to call home
The pansies have a home
The breeze is at home everywhere
I am still twisting

Author Note: Is it the nature of humans to never be satisfied with where they are? I find myself so often reaching for the next goal, the next move, the next big thing in my life instead of taking the time to understand that there is perfection to be found in the very moment I am in.

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