The melancholy's blooms

The melancholy’s blooms

Have the scent of bedsheets 

The oversized sweaters

Of lambswool and soft bleats

The arguments with self

That aren’t unanimous 

These letters to the World

Patterns in randomness 

Light flashes can’t be seen

Light flashes can’t be seen

Explosions can’t be heard

New movies are streaming

And summer sports have blurred 

Market roller coasters

Insiders have no fear

Sailors wanting to jump

Because the end’s not near

Everyone a teacher

Everyone a teacher

The Overwhelm of learn

The hands full and empty

Much held yet more to yearn

Truth not distant mountains

White daisies in the yard

A seat at the table

In our one act play starred

Time is visible here

Time is visible here

It both grows and ages

Off of the canvas it

Is still turning pages

Day after day passing

Tangents merely touching

But concentric rings are

Expanding and muching 

The World is seeping in

The World is seeping in

It seems to never sleep

The sadness and its joys

Not long for us to keep

We press on and hold hands

Make it better for few

Why must we be strangers

We grow old yet seek new 

The golden light is near

The golden light is near

Impressionistic paint

Like a stained glass window 

Or halo of a saint

The sycamores waiting

Crickets and katydids

Provide the swan song for

The summer and its kids

Remember Vietnam

Remember Vietnam

Draft numbers by birthday

Happy to thoughts and prayers

Candle wish to mayday

Random numbers decide

Is my brother listed

Who wins this lottery

Emotions all twisted