Grumpy Talk

Trees have changed since the childhood games.
Rings form and the leaves shed and grow anew.
But we continue to sit in unshaded areas with pictures of then,
Desperately putting behind the words that form our memories.

There is an unyielding need to salvage what was never to be;
With separate inner voices that guide our way.
In ever the same fashion, on this humid day,
We speak aloud the things our separate voices always say.

Together we walk this path that could easily dead-end;
Holding a deep trust that together we can find a way.

(This poem was written in my iPhone note pad and not edited... as you can probably tell)