This Is You This Is Me (From, Occasional Songs) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

This is you this is me,
Different opinions everywhere;
Take or leave what will be,
Hiding out in places there.
Wings to try outside in air,
What will reach another pole;
To keep inside or be aware,
Life is such a small cubbyhole.

Come and give the speed on,
Running through to destiny;
What we like we to are drawn,
Life will teach each chemistry.
Call on the phone and say hello,
Singing a tune writing a book;
Going hard or soft like mellow,
Fishing reality on a new hook.

This is you this is me,
Nothing matters more than this;
What you know and what you see,
Performances negligent remiss.
Route to take to find freshness,
Following footsteps still seen;
Depth of thoughts abstractness,
What's life's future where has it been.