Some people

see a new future

ahead

~

with an obvious

dead end

in sight

~

as if your future

is no more

than your past

in hindsight

On day

we fall

awake

~

and see

a different world

On our way

towards our need

~

we get distracted

by all the lushness

we see

~

and only later

do we drink

from the well

in the valley

where we linger

the water

that we need

The patterns I see

are forming letters

~

the words are there

but I need more distance

~

for the sentence

I need

to turn away

~

and to understand

I have to wait

till I close my eyes

A handprint

in a gravel beach

~

the upcoming tide

hasn’t yet

taken it

away

~

did someone

pushed

themselves up

~

or did they stop

a fall

~

maybe

they just wanted to feel

the cold gravel

Each day

around

and around

in circles

a spiral

till the end

working on my bounce

We’ll keep them

hanging around

even though

they are cut up

in so many pieces

that they are

useless

~

you can no longer

water your soil

with them

~

my dear old

arguments