On a busy street still as stone; calm and quiet; not alone.
Warm fingers reach out
Tearing their way through jewels
Of deep blue velvet
It’s not the future, it’s not the past. All we have is now.
There is magic in this city as the sun begins to rise and the streets still sleep.
Often it’s the best.
Hiding in the gloom of our lives are memories of things gone and yet to come. If we allow ourselves to be comfortable in this sometimes troubled low light place, slowly there will come peace.