Questions and beginning.

The skies have always been bland, we filled them with dreams; the clouds never rained, our eyes were moist.

Balloons fly, birds fly; tell me, why can’t we try?

The pages were distant lands, we migrated; of memories and pain, we sing. Did you know? All we have to do is think.

It never took long, it was never too fast but whatever happened, happened. Nothing would last. And I wonder, when was the last time we laughed?

As I stand on the bridge overlooking the park, there’s a reflection in water looking back at me, like it’s waiting for me to ask: “how’re you doing?” and that’s a start.

24 thoughts on “Questions and beginning.”

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