Dwelling in between,

And underneath,

So as not to be seen, …

Not all doors,

Are easy to enter,

Or even reach. …

No place to belong,

And nowhere to grow,

The leaves asked the tree, …

Traveling to distant,

Beckoning shores,

Is a choice. …

I miss those days,

When tired after playing,

On the ground I used to lay. …

Shuttered yet waiting,

In old empty rooms,

Linger the dreams, …

Differences,

In all of us exists.

But those who care not, …

Nettings on the ground,

With sticks in hand,

We rattle branches, …

On cool autumn days,

Daylight early fades,

Welcoming moments, …

It has taken me years,

To realize and embrace,

That simplicity, …

Some things,

Built along the way,

Are simply left behind, …

Through my eyes,

The road still leads,

To the same place. …

When the stories,

Have been told,

The page complete, …

For reasons,

I do not readily see,

For many years, …

It is cooler now,

That autumn has arrived.

Wet foggy mornings, …

Alone and stranded,

Is one way,

To look at those days. …

Bridges,

Remind me of friendships.

They can be built, ….

Taller,

Greener,

Bushier, …

For many years,

My favorite color was red,

But now it’s green. …

Sometimes the truth,

Quietly lays,

In green fields, …