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Smelling Roses
January 21, 2013
Before I drift into nothingness,
I like to think about the word could.
Who I could be,
What I could have done,
The far away places I could go.
I reflect so much on the languor of life
That I forget to look for its beauty.
While I am dreaming about my perfect being,
Where nothing is the same and there are
Flawless designs of flawed people,
I do not notice the smell of asphalt after a drizzle
Or the electricity in the air before a first kiss
Or the
Or the
Or the
© Matt S., Southaven, MS
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