The bags under my eyes show that I care,
They're not from sleepless nights but being aware,
To see the morning rise oh so fair,
I would gladly wake the night for sunshine flare.
Its hard not to think when you see beauty in the
Kitchen sink, all human pain in the rain and love
in a final heartbeat.
Sorrow sounding footsteps clatter in concrete canyons,
Beating out the doldrums, echoing bounteous companions.
Graceful courteous reader do not be mistaken,
I have not departed from where this poem started:
For there is beauty in pain which bypasses unthinking brain,
I shall explain with this refrain.
''beauty and pain are one and the same as
each enhances the other,
to be only beauty to see only pain
would grow monotonous''
I hope great friend you now understand,
But do not think too deep for this is sleight of
Hand, flight of one a.m. fantasy and that is all.