Sweet Nothings.

Everything was sweet

Nothing mattered

You were everything

I saw you in everything

I wanted nothing more

Oh the memories of sweet nothings

are everything.

Nothing since or to come

Will ever come close

The things we shared

The ridiculous, the small

Oh how momentous they all now seem

The memories of sweet nothings

Are everything.

Picture by Edward Cisneros UnSplash

The Lowly Tourist.

He snapped here

Then snapped there

Cut up the whole world

Scattered it on his walls

And yet something was missing.

Each vista was a new opportunity

Each moment stole his attention

He snapped and snapped

Like a yapping dog

Who barks for nothing.

All the while experience was slipping

Through fingers that didn’t feel

But how can snapping at reality

Ever own it, ever own

What can never be owned.

And the local looked on

With benevolent smiles

Not to cause offence

To the lowly tourist

The local followed his instructions faithfully.

And someone is watching

Looking at him looking at me. Neither lowly tourist nor local can see just what can never be seen.

It must only be Experienced.

Picture by Steven Lewis UnSplash

PS The idea to use song titles to write poems was an exercise set by Britt Blomster.

The album is Unrequited by Loudon Wainwright III