…an ode to the many we meet

To the hesitant,
The petulant, the shy, and the arrogant,
The indecisive, the analyst, the non confronters, the polite,
The disappearing wizards, the phobic, the insecure, the yes men,
The conformists, the safe, the boring, the thrill seekers,
The planners, the strategists, the risk cutters, the know it alls,
The do gooders, the martyrs, the just like that’s, the drifters,
To the confused, the convinced, the confident, and the wreck,
Have a nice day and get on with the trek.

…an ode to the many we meet

…an ironic gift of the Magi

I said lets pretend to be butterflies
He was stuck with the difficult metamorphosis of the caterpillar
I said lets flap and fly
He wanted to know the right wind speed
I said lets pretend we’re raindrops
He refused to flow without a direction

Years later he figured caterpillars effortlessly turned to butterflies
And that all directions converge to one
By then I was fascinated by caterpillars and maps

…a box named me

Don’t open it my darling
Let the ribbons sit pretty
There’s a lot inside my darling
Will get difficult to fold back in

Tuck it away…behind the old vinegar bottles
Let the dust gather and termites eat some
One day when you find it…ribbons faded, dusty and dirty
Open it to see sepia memories
Moth eaten, faded, faintly resembling what it used to be
Bin it then
It won’t cost a thought.

…a box named me