The clouds know.

Like them,

One day, …

Quaint,

Hidden corners,

Where we walked, …

Today,

Confusion reigns.

Rust everywhere, …

The flavors of summer,

Will now linger behind.

On cold winter days, …

Regardless of age,

And wisdom,

An outlet, …

I don’t know,

Which I like more.

The cobblestone street, …

It’s not clear,

Where some roads begin,

Or eventually end. …

Thoughtful,

Worried faces,

Are what I now see, …

Worn out wooden benches,

Hold a special charm.

Like tall colorful tales, …

Wise old words,

Carved in stone.

But they too, …

Sometimes,

There’s little to do,

But contemplate, …

A strange old house,

With a rope,

Pulley, …

So many,

Over there,

Far away. …

Staring at the sky,

The bee whispered,

“Smile, …

There too are secrets,

Hidden among the leaves.

They are the jewels, …

Leave something behind,

Be remembered,

Matter. …

To understand,

Accept,

Or walk on by. …

I’ll float along the river,

With other seekers,

To places I haven’t seen, …

Eyes do speak,

Even in animals,

Hanging on doors, …

Faded,

Cracked,

Walked upon and worn, …