Our local library,

Is rather small.

Hidden in a quiet corner, ...

Some create,

As others collect.

At day’s end,...

There are days,

I envy flowers.

They aren’t bothered, ...

Some bared legs,

Get cars to stop,

While others, ...

As the days pass,

I too,

Am open only, ...

Autumn’s cool breeze,

Has once again arrived.

Fallen leaves, ...

If life is a circle,

Then I’d like to fill it,

With all the colors I can, ...

Some names,

Are quite strange.

But only because, ...

One day I climb,

Only the next to descend.

And so days pass, ...

Simplicity,

From a distant past,

Where pure laughter, ...

Discolored bricks,Display character.

Much like scars, ...

Youth is often adorned,

In lively and bright,

While the aged, ...

Some days,

When it’s rather late,

Words quietly stay away. ...

Today felt cracked and dry.

As the hours passed,

Ghosts of bygone years, ...

When sunsets arrive,

I like to look back,

Rewind the day, ...

Living the same dream,

Where everyone is different,

Yet crave sameness, ...

Today is sunny,

Yet I feel flat.

No energy, ...

Wide open fields,

As far as I can see.

Devoid of crowds, ...

Art has many forms.

Some I appreciate,

A few I can create, ...

Old fashioned letters,

Are nice to write.

For the words, ...