Some doors I walk by.

They don’t speak to me,

And I don’t know why. …

Cobblestone paths,

Last many lifetimes.

Like olden stories, …

Their ashes were planted,

Beneath a young olive tree.

I wonder if they feel him, …

Swimming,

On a hot summer day.

Thoughts flow, …

The circle of life,

Contains many colors.

But some, …

In my mind,

I travel across foreign lands.

Places, …

The waves,

Have washed away,

Some of my memories. …

Eyes often speak,

What a heart feels.

But not everyone can see, …

Walking along dirt paths.

Going down memory lane,

Of a long ago past. …

Days passing by,

As dreams waver,

In turbulent waters, …

I crave a home,

Far from the world.

No one around, …

Sharp bright colors,

No longer appeal.

It is the vague, …

I may be old,

Rusted and wound up,

But I will not droop, …

Yesterday,

I stopped by the trees,

To listen to them speak. …

Traditions,

Come in many forms.

Even those, …

Timeless melodies,

Rarely get old.

They can be played slow, …

One day like the river,

I too will meander and flow,

Knowing the way, …

Looking at the mosaic,

Reminds me of life.

Memories patched together, …

By water’s edge,

I patiently wait,

As the sound of the river, …

To be yellow,

Pink or green.

These days, …