agendas aside
the plans life had made for him
refused to conform.

run away from us,
oh brief, temperate weather;
oppression returns.

unfinished games of
musical conversations
leave us incomplete.

misbegotten hopes,
dispelled by reality,
clung to fervently.

let it be
let it run through me,
like air through porous screen,
or am i the sift-ee?

break it free,
don’t discount – achieve;
maybe the only key
is willingness to dream.

fortuitously,
he leaned in to kiss the girl
‘fore her patience thinned.

in this convergence,
I have found myself losing
the moral high ground.