Wondering what has become of me
when there was a lust for love,
that passion for the verve,
running carefree as
fresh sprinkles of wet cool
spackled my face,
bare feet in the grass,
my vocal chords swelling
from singing out loud
my favorite songs
not caring if I awaken
the sleeping
All was the character
of hope and wishes
thinking smiles would
be mirrored by strangers
and good deeds were
a common thread
amongst all.
My vision,
considered naiveté
not condemned
of being ignorance
and my love ones
Mother, brothers
were accessible
at my beckon call
not yet swallowed by
the earth or their ashes
blowing away in the wind.
Life’s storms have
covered my footprints
Some strangers still do mirror smiles and consider your vision not naive or ignorant but inspirational. Life's storms give naive optimism a more weathered, realistic but still hopeful look.
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