Riddles, Proverbs, beauty and the questions that make up a life.

A long lone rose on a stem, on the floor of this f train and stories of how it ended up there abound. Just another rose, on another train on another day.

Street dwellers, plastic bags filled with empty bottles and answers that evade us.

Her small lipped smile, not wanting to betray a sense of emotion, sitting and sipping coffee he ponders his home town and if his old friends are still there at the old haunts.

Two hearts connected on a thin string of gold, an airplane promising happiness on a banner, two men walking along the shore one looking at the sailboat in the ocean, the other weighing his gold in his mind.

Fleeting thoughts like footprints in the sand, youth is fleeting and wasted on them, beauty can be made up but true beauty never ends.

A working mind, a working man, time sucking up the hours spinning on the dial. If songs are meant to be sung why can’t I remember those words?

Twisted riddles with no true answers, answers can be confusing when no questions are posed.

Dreams as an escape mechanism, barely remembered but felt long after the alarm rings you to wake.

You walk up the stairs, you open the giant doors, walk into the library, grab a book and close your eyes to read. Transported back to a time when you denied what you felt, when the ruffles of time drowned you into taking the next step, the next and the next. Riding the waves of emotion like a butterfly in the wind.

Were you someone else, in another time and place? Is this your first or last time around? Can you feel the departed, ghosts in your heart?

Tuesday, May 16. How? Wasn’t it just the week before Thanksgiving? Did I blink and miss something?
Just another day, just another day.