Watching the Day Go By

...feeling the wood of this bench pressing on my skin as a child that would like to wander the streets and venture the alleys that whistle songs of coming forth, but doesn't, cause the age of this youth still gives fear to not view the world without an adult. I sit in a motionless trance and let my eyes sway along the coming sounds of passer buyers who do not show interest in my still form for their heads are still filled with the thought of: bills money work unemployment the girl that smiled at him the other day the man that laughed at her when she tripped the feeling of a rough hand soothing your back after work intimacy love children loneliness life death... And yet my head does too fill with the same very thoughts, I feel not as often though. My minds seems to absorb more the sights and sounds of the earth, and also the life; small or large, alike or different, that goes by my face or behind it. Just sitting on a bench that was once a tree, that was probably once in thought like I was... Dazed at the sky for its illuminant colors the clouds look like marmalade marshmallows I wonder if Lucy is up there right in her sparkling diamond gown... the wind kisses me as it begins to fall into the rhythm of the world and decides to dance one last wild happy flow of air for the sun, as it slowly but steadily lays his head to rest but watches lazily of all that is in his presence as he diminishes. watches the sunflowers bow to his worship watches the mother crow settle in her nest watches the children figure how to ask their parents to stay in the park a bit longer watches the metal candles begin to grimace to turn on for the long hours watches the watcher, sitting by there lonesome, watching him slowly leave no rays the chill comes with the moon and I decides to watch her as well till my lids feel heavy and I soon too, will diminish the colors of light.