Unlike the imagined
Forever indefinable
At least for me.

Life is
The emotion that rises in me
When yellowed leaves
Race toward the ground.

Life is
The child jumping up and down
While parents laugh
In symphonies.

Life is
That backlit ally
With Lovers against walls
Next to garbage cans

Life is
Waiting for the car to strike
And begging God
You’re forgiven

Life is
A million dollars
From the biology degree
And a company of shrimp

Life is
The cut along my finger
That pounds through my body
When squeezed with lime

Life is
The photo in the gallery
That makes me linger
For no reason other than
...The hope for explanation...

Mondays
Produce in me
The nostalgia
The Plethora
Of what I’d like to be

Mondays
The ones that smell of winter
When headlights barely are of use
And graveyards
Become homes
To more than just those bodies

Mondays
Gave way to Sundays
Or maybe it was Tuesday
But Who’s to say?

Mondays
I wish I was the kind of person that could wish for one honestly
I believe that if you can hope for a Monday, and be delightful in the fact that another week has begun...Well, perhaps that’s when you know you’ve reached serenity...or is it insanity?
Mondays
Aren’t as bad as we seem to twist them to be. Though they do make me restless, no, excuse me, that’s everyday.
Mondays
Aren’t as tough as we’ve painted them to be. I’d like to make them beautiful, despite the muddied colors.
Why do I forget.