hey it’s me
walking the street
mid day time
end of summer
meteopolitan smoggy air
how are you
maestro viejito hermoso
noticed he’d fallen
sweet weeping child
or is it
you haunting me
either way i
need to say
there’s thunder sobbing
up from throat
in the sudden
downs of life
he sits there
back to me
but back when
i sat there
too stoned to
hide my face
there is no
art in suffering
beauty estranged in
white soiled nothingness
grace crosses street
no one to
touch his shoulder
words less spoken 
Loneliness is an empty place
Nothingness is a blank space ….
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Beautiful friend 🧡
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love, sweet poet xo
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Thank you stranger xo
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‘There is no art in suffering’ the lines are profound. Beautiful.
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Thank you friend 🧡
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Welcome always 🙂
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