July 9th

I have always known the difference

of a seat by the bus window.

Where the thin sheet of glass

and the rush of travel

were the only things separating me from reality –

of farmers tending to their land,

strange faces

living on their own as I am,

the blue canvas of sky

painted with tall green peaks,

sunlight between trees

through holes poked by fairies,

the cold air against my face

like those dark, stormy nights

of warm blankets and coffee,

poetry and raindrop lullabies;

the songs of loss and heartbreak

reenacted by the subtle tears of drizzle

and of the mist

obscuring the reflection like a vague memory.

 

The fast-paced life of anonymity

barely leaves time to meet

a striking stranger.

 

 

©All rights reserved. Photo from favim.com

 

 

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