The sorrow of phones,
The calm of coffee,
Gratitude for the
Past, that now
We are in
Paris
Pretending
To not wipe away the
Rain, to not weep for
The wind, to hold on
And come home for
The abstract abc we
Clean out an array
Of colors random
Sized random
Drops picked
Up to plateau
Against reason
Again believing
That we may never again know happy
At the happy cost of never again knowing
Sad, obscured by the difference between not
To care not
Caring &
Having
No cares
But always being in This World
