it was music for
reflection

on a stroll back
home

that lead me to
the trees
,

i swear they arched
a little closer

to make sure i was
breathing,

at once, i felt both
held and seen

standing lone and barefoot
in the street
.

an aged wood bench
painted
white,

right beside
a no trespassing sign,

can still spot graffiti
lines,

though can’t quite make out
what they read,

behold youth bursting
to be free.

fractured from the
pressure,

i’ve wanted it
too much,

time with you
was the good dream,

you knew just when
to leave

but taught me to
stop running.

planted and
pushing..

strained against
a wall,

poking through
brick,

the
hair caught
between two teeth

pluck it from the source
of its seed,

much like any
weed.