Our paths cross/we walk the same
Exchanging steep thoughts and careful mindings
We feel the sun and hear the locomotives go by
We understand we are different
But we can see the same
Wild birds and flying flowers swing in and out of our peripheral
We are mindful of our surroundings
We are aware we are here
The warmth , the Chicago summer has crept up once more
Pushing spring out of the picture before we had a chance to appreciate her
And our memories, fashioned like sunburns
Never quite recalling how much affects us,
’til it’s approached and having it’s way.
