Monday, February 8, 2016


I still go the the park,

Where we used to roam,

Swing on the swing,

Where we used to hang,

Stare up at the stars

In the moonlight,

Our only battle

Defending against midnight

... Alas, morning would come and morning would go...

I walk by your house,

But do not knock on the door,

I hike your trails,

But only miss you more,

Branches and frogs,

Nature's very own,

Time is distant,

Like a frozen zone.

... Alas, I must be crazy, insanely searching for something that doesn't exist...

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© February 2016

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