Why is it everytime
I meet someone?
She seems to be the
wrong one?
...
Looking through the lens of hindsight
were the emotions real?
did they exist?
...
I tell myself
I enjoy the chaos I create
while I conduct
the lunatic cacophony
...
We watch your
Descent from the sky
We hear your
Splashing against the Earth
...
On the horizon a brief flash
In the distance a soft boom
Through the treetops a short woosh
From the pavement a light hiss
...
From across the room
a lilting chime,
the Siren’s Song
you cannot resist.
...
Recently turned 40 and really feel like I am coming into a very new and exciting and energetic phase of my life. I have met a lot of new friends over the last few months who have changed my life in ways I am still processing. I have had a sudden renewed interest in poetry and digging out my writing and scribblings from years ago. I have started writing again, I haven't done that for years.)
A Few Questions:
Why is it everytime
I meet someone?
She seems to be the
wrong one?
Or if not the wrong one,
it's the wrong time?
Is she out there,
somewhere, waiting?
Sitting alone tonight,
thinking the same thing?
Have we met already,
and not know it yet?
Will me meet someday,
and know it then?
Will we meet someday,
and let it slip away?
Am I destined
to spend this life alone?