Fate rests upon the public hum,
stop and start towards its goal.
Roads, lights, pockets of change,
conspire against the timetables;
a dozen worried glances
at ever-going watches
plead with the ebbing flow
and pray to gods they never loved
or ever cared to know.
Amidst the crowd of worriers
who’s daily meet may not be met,
there sits, restlessly, a longing heart
who woke this morning before the sun,
sung this morning before the birds,
but laughed too soon at the day’s potential;
now they’ll never know what could have been.
Feather-light, a woe descends,
to fall and float beside them.
Truth be told, it’s company
when dreams have been forgotten.