we tend to forget all of the wind and the rain as the storm clouds pass
we follow the tracks because it’s the safe route to our destination
how hungry were they the first people to gather foods now commonplace
the distance traveled in one’s imagination cannot be measured
sometimes the message is understood; even if it’s written poorly
the raindrops that fall on the flowers’ petals are the ones we admire
imagine a bird trying to carry its shell the rest of its life
as the flowers fade the industrial buildings pay no attention
warnings from the past might be relevant today if we would listen
we each have a gate that we can close or open to let in others
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