To see the world,

And oneself,

As clearly as wide-open fields, …

Some things,

Appearing before me,

Are hard to understand. …

I used to gather things,

Often thinking,

I don’t have enough. ….

Toady,

I swim beside her,

Knowing her presence, …

Some pictures,

Speak a thousand words,

But in a language, …

It didn’t matter,

Where among the many,

I tried to hide, …

Friends,

Kind gestures,

Thoughtful moments, …

I recall the story,

Of the turtle and hare,

From past childhood days. …

On horizontal days,

When it feels strange,

There is little to do, …

It wasn’t the falling tears,

I disliked the most,

But the perceptions, …

Gazing at the pictures,

I can see the memories,

Now softly sleeping, …

It no longer matters,

Whether the road,

Is open and inviting, …

Problems and worries,

Had piled up.

It was hard to breathe, …

It is in the depth,

Of old memories,

Where tendencies await, …

A cool summer day,

As fog drifts over the fields,

Birds are nowhere to be seen, …

Eye-catching,

Famous and admired,

Is what I learned, …

Driving by cornfields,

Reminds me of younger days,

Playing hide and seek, …

Obsolete patterns,

Now rarely seen,

On outdated relics, …

As I age,

It is the simple things,

That I understand and crave. …

Those memories,

Are now by the deep blue sea,

And the roads we travelled, …