"Life"

A light read about where every person's focus seem to lie...

Every evening in a small summer town,

The warm wind blows, towards the crowds,

As lights shine bright like a halo cloud

Covering the buildings like a fickle shawl.

The colors blast with striking contrast,

The reflection, a mirage or mosaic of rainbows on glass

Pathways ~ like gold ~ to different directions

All brilliant. Grandeur incomparable.

People buzz to and forth,

In a never ending pace,

Goals are set high, and 

Tangible, yet ever-fickle.

A small, single road leads out into the dark

Where no light shone, and a house stood alone.

No one dared enter. No one tried to see.

A small boy sitting there 

Playing happily.

Author's Note

Life is not all about the big things. The poem is a personal reminder as to how people seem to be focused on what is going on at the present. Although, there is nothing wrong -- the magnitude of the the demanded tasks and the splendor it produces sometimes make us forget that there are smaller things that need our attention. Sometimes, these small things even make life more worthwhile.