it’s strange to see you
so relaxed, graceful almost
as jagged rage overcasts me.
your free-spirited dance easing you away
at its mere breath of unaffiliated breeze
as I am stuck here, rooted,
bracing the oncoming downpour,
mutely screaming.

the music then changes,
raining with soft harmonies of what had been
our clashing modern, melodies fight
never one ceasing to come out victorious,
ending with our timeless strikes of spite.

it’s strange to see us
in such a battle, when the days
our juvenile walks could take us around the corner,
our imaginations to the unknown,
had only just occurred.
the days when the sun was our friend
asphalt tapping the pads of our soles,
candy from the local gas station rotting
not only our teeth but in our hands.

yet the sun no longer exists.
now we storm,
clash,
never to pacify.
it’s just strange to see
how the weather changes.