My mind wanders off and leaves me behind,
but it lets me in on whatever it finds.
So, lest I forget, I write down what I’m told
indiscriminately, good or bad, new or old.

A Coke bottle makes a good vase sometimes,

or maybe a place to save pennies and dimes.
An end table or dresser could use a good piece
that in elusive ways through reflection, can speak.

As time goes by, it changes rhythm and pace,
As if changes in transportation take place.
Sometimes on foot it trudges on, heavy and slow,
or speedy but scenic, like a train on the go.

And as the time rolls by I become a Coke vase,
a grey area in the infinite space
of life’s possibilities. Simple, yet strong
I find I’ve been a Coke bottle all along.

And as time either trudges, or speeds on that train
I feel I’ve also been like the volatile rain.
I’ve been quick like lightening, and thunderous, too.
My rainbow shawl’s always there when it’s cool.

Rain tinkers around in the neck of that bottle,
If not for the glass it’d unleash full throttle.
Creativity, spirit, vitality, integrity,
bottled up in glass, in captivity.

For the glass gives structure, outwardly peace
while the rain of thoughts rumble on beneath.
The yin and yang create a good place
for the flowering ideas that grow strong in that vase.