A photo of ourselves
Is more an indication
Of self value
And self awareness
Than any quiz
Or friend’s interpretation.
I long held comedy my armor,
To be worn in public and private both;
Yet, I do not need such now, as I
I have maturity and life experiences
Which I had not before and may not again.
A wise man makes photographs of those he loves
His outward reflection, for he knows
You want to know him,
And what better way than by who he is.
Droopy leaves,
Furry trees,
Red kisses shown when sudden breeze.
How much I love a walk in winter’d early weather; when Fall but rains on tall shoulders in a stroll!
I always do this.
I stay awake and search for some knowledge/
Something I can learn and digest;
And, when I’ve found the night’s well dry,
I slink to sleep, defeated.
I never go to sleep exhilarated, or as though
I’ve championed something. I always rub my eyes
And bury my head, slowing breath to sleep.