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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was stacking hours like firewood, planning a future that smelt of varnish and new, counting the rungs to some polished ascent~ when Xavier, who never spoke in anything but Excel formulas~ said it like a dropped fork: *Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans. The room didn’t tilt. No thunderclap. Just the steam from his mug, drawing ghosts in the air between us. That afternoon, rain fell sideways. I forgot my umbrella, so I walked home wet-skinned and giddy, noticing how the pavement shimmered like a dark river broken by streetlights. Plans? I’d stacked them neat as bills~ college, promotion, a love that wouldn’t bruise. But the universe, it seems, prefers graffiti to ledgers. Now I leave my windows open. Let the moths in. Let the drafts carry their cold secrets. I notice how rain tastes like metal when you tilt your head back, how a stranger’s laugh can split your ribs like kindling. I miss the train. I live. Others criticize me. I live. ~and the ghost of my old plans whistles through me, a dry leaf in a storm. Xavier’s gone now—moved to Phoenix, sends postcards of cacti in sunglasses~ but some nights, when I’m balancing checkbooks or untangling Christmas lights, his voice elbows through the clutter: Hey. The moths are dancing. Look up. *Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans</em was originally written by Allen Saunders in 1957, but it was popularized by John Lennon in his song "Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)." (Source Wikipedia.com)
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