Baristas, patrons
Even the quicksteppingsuits
Can read you like a book

Your face tells the story
"Tempt not a desperate man!"
They see all your chips on the table
Out like that

A few lines of heartfelt disclosure
Now appear
And you disappear
Back to the world's rhythms

I'm a little too
Excitable
Or at least
That's what I'm told
Too positive
With my glass half full
Too happy, too many
Smiles, I know

I'm too naive
Too blind, unaware
To know what
Life's about
I'm too busy
Floating on air
To remember
The pain of the ground

You think I don't know
The pressure and strain
Of the final string
Of a splitting rope?
I've ripped, I've snapped
I have no less pain
But one thing I do have
Is hope

Well my glass isn't half full
Its overflowing
My rose colored glasses
Don't leave my eyes
I am not too much
Of anything
Except too good
At finding where hope hides

Lady in a gray dress
calling this a wintry mix

A coastal low with rain and sleet

I reckon so, but it sure seems
like the winter blues to me.

when i was younger, i used to admire people who were intelligent.
now that i'm older, i admire people who are kind.
there's the saying that no matter how educated, rich, talented, cool, or "smart" you are, it all comes down to how you treat others.
and it's true.
choose kindness, because a small act of kindness goes a long way.

floating lights 
and dark skies
sit on the phantom
heir as chair

a soft touch
a ripple 
in the deep
blue sea

paper chairs 
and crosses
float 
beneath 
the skies
as sheet

(the eye wake
gaze
at merry old
stars;
the ***** wonder )

we are weak
when we 
are poor
and meek
when we 
admit the tongue
did defeat

an old pair
of glasses
as glory

we all
 wither
                  all mouths
meet winter
i hope
to 
see
wall
grow flowers

before 
a machine
gives
birth.