Unfinished business

Who knows what lay in her eyes? Mysterious tales of pain and suffering, perhaps untold to any human yet. In a language I couldn't fathom.

As the coffee brews, I wonder.

People leave.

As do seasons.

And come again.

But at least, seasons have a rough regard for people.

They let us know when they arrive.

Sound warnings, tell us to prepare.

Ordinary Dreams

A common person I am,

With ordinary dreams.

Wishing for the little joys in the world.

I don’t want much,

Just that bus I wait for everyday to come as soon as I do on the stop.

I want to see the sunset,

And if possible, the sunrise.

I don’t dream too big,

Although leaving early from work would be nice.

I just want the time,

To lay down in the grass,

And afford not to have a worry or care in the world,

Even if for a little while.

I want to sleep like a baby,

And get up refreshed, without fear of traffic or terrorist attacks.

 

A common person I am,

With ordinary dreams,

I just want a little piece of the Sky.

Not all of it.

Let the Gods above know

That I don’t wish for much,

Just a little bit of fame,

And then I will retire to ashes,

I know I’m mortal,

I don’t ask for too much, do I?