A Window
“Look up!”, the old man says,
the young one looks at him, perplexed,
he points to the window where,
a stream of conifers, broken clouds, and traffic lines,
passed him by; unobserved
The stochastic melody of nature,
such as the tweets of spring time birds,
even the bustling city streets, and the subtle whirr of engines,
all were unlistened to; unheard
He looks down again, with a preoccupied gaze,
hunched over with rounded shoulder blades,
a stream of blue light paints his face,
as he scrolled through curated feeds,
stuck, in a digital daze,
endlessly refreshing his timeline,
packets of binary translate to dopamine treats,
his moods were dictated by soulless algorithms
The sensitive ones,
crave the refuge of solitude,
the old man tells him,
“—the secret lies in what we pay attention to!”
“So, look up and see,”
The old, the usual, the typical,
“—there’s beauty in the ordinary!”
The young one looked up and stared out the window
–
Selfie
She still lived inside of me
Though only as a simple memory
Sometimes I would by chance catch a scent of her old buttery body-wash from a passing crowd
(Never remembered its name, though I would instantly buy it if I did)
I wish I could remember everything there is in my short sighted mind,
A cold lifeless stare, a promise that she kept,
Over warnings of her fragile health,
Drama wasn’t her forte,
A straightforward gal with a prosaic tongue,
Wrote entire papers in the passive,
She never left her love; Nature, and the lab
All I have are memories
And your photograph on my shelf
I wish you took more Selfies
Because there’s nothing left that I can remember
Thanks for publishing my work @softcartel !🤙🏼
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