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.
Copyright © Jessica Arteaga | Year Posted 2010
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