Cold Coffee & A Stash Of Lost Dreams

Photo by Kristina Paukshtite on Pexels.com

Cold coffee & a stash of lost dreams
A distant memory of those rail yards
But we weren’t ourselves with honesty
Not the renegades or anything that hard


Images of what we might yet become
Grabbing self-regard before it fades
Destroying their notions of modernism
Returning to polka dotted shirts & dark shades


We all have our morbid skeletons
The vague semblance of a broken soul
But somewhere are the clues to the truth
Somewhere when lightning meets a weary, old skull

Don’t Tell Me How’s Its Gonna Be

 

Don’t tell me how’s its gonna be
When you’ve never been
I’ve seen the angry sea
You’re not among the salty men
Don’t act like you have a clue
Clinging to the dirt
You’ve never seen a color that blue
Never felt your soul cringe & hurt
You’re looking for easy praise
Don’t want to be a weathered cog
Riding waves on endless days
You’re still crisp; a mere pollywog

 

Image by David Mark from Pixabay