Achy, bland days.

When holes and stains,

Are felt everywhere. ...

Peaceful, overflowing,

But devoid of people.

Like silent thoughts, ...

A milky galaxy,

Light years away.

Perhaps artwork, ...

Long time,

Since the bike felt alive.

Dirt and rust have grown, ...

Early May, and

There are mornings,

When it still snows. ...

Sometimes,

The last slice of a pizza,

Can smile, ...

Strange, that sunlight

Shining on a glass,

Can cast shadows. ...

An orange, Fiat 640.

Bright, sparkling, humming.

Adorned with flowers, ...

A golden, welcoming carpet,

For spring’s early morn.

Blooming trees, ...

Butterflies do sparkle.

Some even grow antlers.

They can smile, ...

Sometimes,

Doing the unexpected,

Simply doesn’t appeal. ...

Yellow speaks.

Sunny, smiling, bright.

Blue listens, as ...

A day to dine outside.

Like days of past.

Memories, floating back ...

The sun’s setting.

A silver ray of light,

Appearing from nowhere. ...

Strange, foreign words.

But it’s colors,

That speak loudly today. ...

Confusing…

Greenery,

Bordered by rocks, ...

Sunshine or moonlight.

To lay in your shade.

Day and night. ...

Holes, lines and cracks.

Imperfections,

Pointed out loudly, ...

A flower beckons.

Sunny and inviting.

Bee lands, ...

Barren walls,

Leafless trees,

Pale blue sky. ...