06 February 2013

Untitled

In 2002, Laura told me I'd be a famous poet.  I don't know about that but I guess it's time to write.  Time for a change.  Maybe I will find that notebook and post those poems from those three weeks here.  Here's a new one.


It's the bus
Always the bus
We turn at this corner
Always the same corner

I feel out of place
Lost
Missing all I hold dear

I am in a cocoon of my own making
Quiet, solitary, alone
I wonder when I will be a part of this place
I doubt it will happen

I stay alone but for a few times where others are in my space
Work, church, events
But the bus
It is alone time
Quiet 
Unlike when I had a car
Here I will not end up at an end point

Time stretches 
Ebb and flow
It's not a matter of pulling through 
It's all about the possibility 


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