Solo tulip

The air of anticipation
And the novelty of discovery
The meetings, an understanding of sorts.
Perhaps not at all?

Talking, dreaming, all down different paths
Traversing well-traveled roads
Until its too late to turn back.
The night brings me home to the truth.

After all the talk and all the cheer
The moments still linger with an air of tenderness
That slowly becomes apathy
And returns to ambivalence
Listen to it disappear.

The days creep along, the nights soothe
the sore wounds.
But the mystery of the self still provokes
And until the sunlight makes it all clear, the moonlight will still make me wonder.


On my mind: Is net worth related to self worth?
On my lips: a cold Corona
In my ears: Night Train (Steve Winwood)