I see flowers growing
down the road. I see
them shooting through
the concrete. Under
my feet isn’t a street;
it’s a dirt road only
the roughest feet know.
I hear birds chirping
down the road. I see
the sun shoot rays
down the road. Now,
I stay in place, as I
take up space. I see
what could possibly be
in front of me. Down
the road is where I’ll go.
These feet keep moving on streets
that I seek until I become weak.
These bare feet move on beat
to music that my soul creates.
I make haste for time I don’t waste.
These feet are on the move like shoes
that didn’t choose to be put on.
These feet have been moving along
like they have nothing to lose.
These feet have paid their dues,
been on the news, beat cases,
and have said “no” to shoe laces.
Step by step, these feet remain
the same: adventurous and free.
These feet are still on the move
because there’s no time to lose
when there’s new places to see.
Today, the car is in cruise control.
I take it slow and go with the flow.
Today, I take a ride down Memory
Lane. I revisit past pain and travel
through time frames: different days.
I unravel. I tear up gravel to navigate
an unknown fate. I carry weight;
I talk to my shadows: old versions
of myself. Sometimes, I ask them
for help – words of advice. Miles
into Memory Lane, I face pain
and embrace joy all the same.
I see old friends of mine the way
they were before I last saw them.
I notice houses I used to live in;
I recognize yards I used to play in.
I begin to see places I have been.
Today, I met with Father Time
and rode down Memory Lane
before any new memories came.
Days fly, and they don’t
say “hi!” or wave “bye!”
Days fade as memories
are made. No time to be
afraid. The world turns
just how a candle burns.
None of that concerns
me. I try my best to feel
blessed – to digest stress.
I try not to waste away,
but I must have my rest.
Like a car sitting alone
in an empty parking lot:
Sometimes, I’m all I got.
I am the bullet being shot.
Will I hurt or help? Die
or try? Crawl or Fly?
Should I wonder why?
Do I fall or do I rise?
Either way, I wont waste
time easily misplaced.
I choose to face the day
instead of wasting away.
What we do: what we say
comes into play everyday.
The choices we make take
form and can transform
into the start of a storm.
The choices we make
can clean or poison
life’s existential lake.
To be or not to be? See?
There is a choice to be
made – an option to take.
Which way will we go?
At times, we don’t know.
Make the right choice
or don’t. Either way,
the life we live shows
us we are in control
of our delicate souls.
Life or death? I choose
living a life – feeling
alright. I choose to live:
an option we all get.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 