futility of life

moments come and pass,

i stop to think about them,

they’re moments of fondness,

nostalgia creates a memory

i dwell, 'not', upon the memory 

for then i cease creating present 

moments and my heart beats 'not' 

of life but in the cessation of it

i look down and feel the grass

between my toes, i smell the lavender

nearby, my eyes are given pleasure

from the lily, the jonquil, the iris,

cardinals whistle for each other,

blue-jays and black birds caw,

the robins have taken nesting

for the warm has come north

as i breathe this moment, though,

as my heart flutters at this piece of life

the beating heart is fragile, feeling

anguish by the loss of souls too young

taken by angry voices, ugly hands