(All I can say is that things change, yet I do not.)
We look out spotted windows,
Passed the dirt and the
Grim to what is beyond it.
Grass, trees, outside.
Parents will yell at their kids
To go out and enjoy themselves.
People like me will stare at it solemnly.
Sometimes I see the memory
Of Mom and Dad together.
Happy.
Loving.
Telling us to go outside.
And we go, staring at the stars,
And we wonder what is out there.
I wonder about Mom and Dad,
If they ever looked at constellations
And wondered the same.
Years have passed, but I still
Wonder. Do they
Still wonder of us, too?
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning To The End
PoesiaI've never been a poet, that much is certain, but I can tell you that it does get written. A lot. These are the collections of my poetry I've written, and some of them hit hard for me.
