An empty bag, hanging in the window sill. Outside it seems like it will snow, I don't think it will. Poems are written, songs are sung. Tears cannot be cried for fears of affecting the young. We are battle scarred, warriors from another place and time. We are the lovers and the dreamers, we always change our mind. Lions and elephants along a beaten path, two lovers walking from an event trying to find their way, home? We are strangers in our hometown, searching for answers all on our own. Tell me, sir, do you have the time? Ma'am have you been here before? When the day lasts long, into the evening and the sounds from the forest echo in song. Is it just as frightening when the moon is full? An empty bag, fallen to the ground...a ground of mud and dirty water running downhill. I feel that the sun will be here soon, I pray that it will. #nycwriters #bloggers #blogging #photopro #menwhowrite #poetry #poem #poets #aloneInstagram

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