To The Childhood Dreamers.
If you sit long enough, you'll be able to notice something about the people walking by. You notice their stride, the shoes they wear, the way they carry themselves. You can tell a business woman from a hooker, a painter from a construction worked. The buisness woman wears conservative black pumps that cover their toes while the hooker wears ungodly high open toed things with a strap going around your ankle. The painter with the black chucks has flecks of orange and yellow covering the surface from working on their latest 'masterpiece' and the construction worker clumps along with the dirt falling from his shoelaces. You notice the speed. The woman hurrying along the mass of people while the painter takes time to admire certain things, coming up with ideas to sketch out later on their trusty notepad.
Your imitation of my walk
and the perfect way you talk.
On occasion, you can hear bits and pieces of their conversations. The way the hooker slurs her words with the open invitation, you can practically smell the whiskey on her breath as she tries another pick up line. You notice the way the business woman lies through her teeth, voice coated in honey as it passes her red sugared lips. You can practically cringe at the way the lies come so easily, until her voice is raised and you know she's losing the battle. Sometimes you think people that lie deserve it. You can hear the painter talking to a person on the sidewalk, asking them if they minded standing still for a few minutes while they draw a quick sketch on a napkin with a pen. You can hear the construction worker tiredly ordering his lunch from the nearby deli, and you just sip your coffee and get lost in it all. You notice a small kid running around across the street, holding onto a leash that at the other end, there is a small puppy and a mother trying to fix it's collar. There's that innocence in the voice of the kid that, you know in years, will disappear. It's almost a sad thought, but you push it away.
You never know who you're going to meet when you step outside into the real world. When you're six and sitting in the sandbox with the little boy next door, you would have never guessed that twenty years later you would be waking up to him every morning. When you're eighteen and you find someone smiling at you from across the room, you would have never guessed that weeks from them, your fingers would be intertwined with yours as you sat in a movie theater and watched each other more than the movie. And when you're twenty six and you're playing a harmless game of paintball with a stranger, you would never guess that months from now it would have turned into something amazing. Chances are, you've probably had a childhood crush or a young love that you wish you could go back and re-vist. The truth is, we all do. Some of us may not admit it, but everyone wants to know what would have happened if you stayed with your first love. And in the end, sometimes you know it's better you moved on. Because sometimes, when you step outside of your little world and into the real one, you'll experience something amazing.
I want to live in the center of a circle,
and I want to live on the side of the square.
I'd love to walk were we both can talk.
You push in your chair, tossing away the luke warm coffee that never really solved your thirst to begin with. Your thirst is for the answer at the end of the line. You continue to watch the people around you before you walk off, hands in pockets, but head held high. You look down, then look back at the painter before crossing the street, in search of the right place. Finding it, you take off the shoes you are wearing and you let your feet sink into the warm grass. In your hand, there is a pair of worn flip flops, the faint imprints of your toes engraved into the soft material. The last time you did this was weeks ago when you felt like a childhood dreamer again.
By this time I recognize this moment,
this moment will be gone.
But I will bend the light pretending that
it somehow lingered on.
I wonder what people think of me when they hear my voice, listen to my laugh, see me walking barefoot among the grass. Call me curious.
Your imitation of my walk
and the perfect way you talk.
On occasion, you can hear bits and pieces of their conversations. The way the hooker slurs her words with the open invitation, you can practically smell the whiskey on her breath as she tries another pick up line. You notice the way the business woman lies through her teeth, voice coated in honey as it passes her red sugared lips. You can practically cringe at the way the lies come so easily, until her voice is raised and you know she's losing the battle. Sometimes you think people that lie deserve it. You can hear the painter talking to a person on the sidewalk, asking them if they minded standing still for a few minutes while they draw a quick sketch on a napkin with a pen. You can hear the construction worker tiredly ordering his lunch from the nearby deli, and you just sip your coffee and get lost in it all. You notice a small kid running around across the street, holding onto a leash that at the other end, there is a small puppy and a mother trying to fix it's collar. There's that innocence in the voice of the kid that, you know in years, will disappear. It's almost a sad thought, but you push it away.
You never know who you're going to meet when you step outside into the real world. When you're six and sitting in the sandbox with the little boy next door, you would have never guessed that twenty years later you would be waking up to him every morning. When you're eighteen and you find someone smiling at you from across the room, you would have never guessed that weeks from them, your fingers would be intertwined with yours as you sat in a movie theater and watched each other more than the movie. And when you're twenty six and you're playing a harmless game of paintball with a stranger, you would never guess that months from now it would have turned into something amazing. Chances are, you've probably had a childhood crush or a young love that you wish you could go back and re-vist. The truth is, we all do. Some of us may not admit it, but everyone wants to know what would have happened if you stayed with your first love. And in the end, sometimes you know it's better you moved on. Because sometimes, when you step outside of your little world and into the real one, you'll experience something amazing.
I want to live in the center of a circle,
and I want to live on the side of the square.
I'd love to walk were we both can talk.
You push in your chair, tossing away the luke warm coffee that never really solved your thirst to begin with. Your thirst is for the answer at the end of the line. You continue to watch the people around you before you walk off, hands in pockets, but head held high. You look down, then look back at the painter before crossing the street, in search of the right place. Finding it, you take off the shoes you are wearing and you let your feet sink into the warm grass. In your hand, there is a pair of worn flip flops, the faint imprints of your toes engraved into the soft material. The last time you did this was weeks ago when you felt like a childhood dreamer again.
By this time I recognize this moment,
this moment will be gone.
But I will bend the light pretending that
it somehow lingered on.
I wonder what people think of me when they hear my voice, listen to my laugh, see me walking barefoot among the grass. Call me curious.