Wind breeze,
Grass, trees.
I close my eyes
And think of you
No more, no more
But then I do.

I Am Vincent -  Excerpts 1

I sat on this bench
With a friend who
Died so long ago.
We talked of love
And hope and dreams.
His hope has ended.
His dreams, eternal.

We only have
What time we have
And not a moment more.

Don’t sit on benches
With ghosts from the past.
Get up, get up
And take her hand.
Dreams can only be fulfilled
When someone shares them with you.

 

Solitude

Being alone, one grows accustomed to loneliness.

 A.D. turns on the radio in the living room as he makes dinner.
The voices, telling their jokes, laughing,
Makes it seem like he is cooking for three instead of one.

F.R. sits down to polish her spoon collection once more. 
It is the third time this month.
“They just get so dirty, they need a lot of attention.”
She has spoons from 15 states. 
One day she hopes, she will have one from all fifty states.  One day.

W.E. sits down at her computer.
She goes to Facebook where she has 122 friends. 
Not one of them has she ever invited into her home.

He is afraid of the silence.
She is afraid to go out.
She is afraid of her neighbors.

They fear real connections.
They fear real conversations.
They live their lives in quiet regularity.
They live by the clock.
They live by their schedule.

If one thing goes wrong,
Their world shatters
Like a broken fishbowl and
They are the fish,
Gasping for air,
Gasping for life,
As hope rushes from them.

Only then are they forced to deal with
The loneliness of their own solitude.