becomings
Unsmoked cigarette
between a hot coffee
an unsmoked cigarette
and maybe life’s five o’clock
we wake from afternoon naps
glance through the coffee steam
looking for existential solutions…
music protrudes through unreachable places
sometimes we don’t think of anything,
but yet this is when we feel important
as if our life would be nothing more than
a bitter coffee drunk by our destiny
and our soul—a smoked cigarette.
Memories invading
Wild horses on the fields
Without master or
Destination
Leaving behind an avalanche
Of words
Life as a poem
The wind was blowing my thoughts,
They were running around
Between a tear and a laugh.
I felt was choosing them carefully,
But they were escaping me…
Some days I was a haiku
And other days I was a long confession.
Simplicity was more my choice,
As the clarity was bringing me
Happiness
Can you read me well enough?