The Ride

Beside a highway,

Between strip malls

And railway tracks,

It’s sometimes strange

Where what’s left of us

Ends up,

Not that it really matters

For some trains of thought

Say we’re long gone,

But for those who come

Picking moss from the markers

Wondering about our lives,

Do they ever consciously

Realize how short

The ride really is.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com

10:54 AM December 31, 2012

Us

The haunting cry

Of the seaside seagull

Reminds me of us,

So close yet so far,

You in your world

Me in mine,

Some thought

 We wouldn’t last,

Perhaps so did we

At times,

But here we are

Tied up in love,

Sometimes torn,

Teased, frustrated,

Like that haunting cry

We’ve stopped wondering

Why and simply fly

In the lovely moments

We get.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com

9:01 AM December 30, 2012

Untouchable

Your concept of

Pictures in a museum

Brought to mind

All that happened

Through the past,

Much of it a whirlwind,

Some of it slow and

Comfortable,

Realizing what’s crazy in

One era is normal in another,

Understanding that some things

Are touchable but unreachable

And others within reach are

Untouchable.

Stephen Nesbitt ©

From “Falling” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com

6:44 PM December 29, 2012