The mind’s mazzes are a story to hum. Tales of blue sky tainted by dusky thoughts.
I’m sitting on a bench, people passing by, black coats and slapping shiny shoes dashing through the wather puddles.
It’s you and me for a while, wandering through the mazzes of my mind. It’s you and me going away for a while; there there are quiet counteralleys for silent words.
There whater puddles reflect a face I can recognize
and you vanish again as an old man asks me for some change. I’m back on my bench, watshing black coats as they rush by, ignorant of my existance.
I bend over the whater puddle, a stranger looks back at me.
And I m affraid, traveling back from my world to one I don’t want to know… at least not for now.
I grab my hat and smile…I wish I were daydreaming, again.
