Where and When
Space is vacant from white.
You'd be surprised how that sounds.
Baby sounds mock smiles.
Youthful greed is starting to creep in.
Lamenting on tracks that have no end,
Can give you the tears that aren't warm.
You have memories for the same reason you have cans of soup.
Just in case you stop living.
The soft whimpering of the high-five days,
Comes to a close with the short breaths of age.
Mirrors only remind you of what you may have done.
It all feels so guilty.
Go home.
Warm your soul in the art of work.
