Perhaps,

In the end,

There is nothing, ...

Dented and used.

No longer shiny,

As days now old. ...

Wearing hats,

Suits and ties,

Strolling about town, ...

My world now overflows,

With endless distractions,

Meaningless attractions, ...

In perfect a world,

There also exist,

Curves in the road. ...

It is those,

Who we least think,

Will understand. ...

I stood there,

Staring a while,

Trying to understand. ...

The clarity I seek,

Doesn’t reside,

On busy sidewalks, ...

Light illuminates,

Bars protect,

And every day, ...

It took years,

To finally realize,

That my road, ...

Growing old together,

By lush grassy fields,

With light by our side, ...

Statements,

Come in many forms.

Some use words, ...

Soft yet hazy,

As far as I can see.

Perhaps a daydream, ...

The elderly in our town,

Freely bestow gifts.

I’m not certain, ...

Maybe my life,

Is also a pattern,

Repeating itself, ...

Some things,

Appear out of place.

I used to judge, ...

Today’s clear skyline,

Wasn’t what it seemed,

For inside was foggy, ...

To be at one,

With the sea.

For some, ...

A blue canvas,

White brush strokes,

Painted by fingers, ...

Sometimes flowers,

Hold tightly onto trees.

I need the strength, ...