Bushell
"When considering a man's motives, remember you must not measure his wheat with your bushel. He may not be using the same standard at all." The Fool
can you remember
the quiet nights
we filled the evenings
we filled the room
with music and talk,
ideas and dreams,
banal babble,
some semi serious stern
the soft smiles
crossed the room
like lazy cigarette smoke
float to the ceiling
hang there
slowly out of sight
out of mind
interesting –
would chat again
the stories we shared
sublime to the ridiculous
souls were slowly bared
we exposed more
than pronunciation
the warmth crept back
a ripple of laughter
followed by a chorus
of fake giggly shooshes
more laughter
a car passes outside
the quiet descends
a chill on the air
and the promise
of spring
caught up in
a nothing moment
one thirty-eight am
it’s a nothing that
happens really slow
i saw you to your car
some time ago
i’ve been out here
smoking cigarettes
since then
i know they are bad for me
i think that you might be too
but that ship sailed
a while back
i sit and smoke and ponder
delicate patterns
fractals and crystals
pendants and charms
and ever so slowly
the small hours
slowly tick away
and gradually
this new grey morning
slowly
becomes today
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.” Me
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