Strange, is it?
The way I see the world.
Every tree and man and woman
And sidewalk and flower and breeze
As a hundred million words

Each leaf having a thousand stories
Of clinging to a tree and watching the world pass by
Cars and bicycles and joggers
Lost so deep in their own thoughts
That they do not notice him
Floating with his brothers
Chilled and warmed with the air
Dripping with consonants and vowels
Translucent and ethereal and pastel
That fall before me as I gaze

Like the flower
Purple and red and yellow and green
Reaching skyward
So many things to say
About the dark dirt
The dampness and the tickling bugs
And the bees that hover happily
and the eyes, colored orbs
That oooh and aaah over it's simple beauty
Each petal a lifetime of questions and answers

Each concrete slab holding a million memories
Of the people and dogs and voices
Spilled ice cream and spilled tears
Gum and footprints and snow and rain
Each tamp on the grey mass
Days and decades of knowledge and thoughts
Making the sidewalk heavy
As it's deep voice silently tells of the passing time

Each person is not a person, but a story
Ribbons of colors and starburst patterns
So unique and undefinable
Colliding and merging
And exploding like sparklers
All around them
And I am in awe
Of all the people who find themselves
In the same place I find myself
And wonder how every breath
Every moment of sleep
And belly full of food
Brought them there
At that exact moment
The culmination of the years they live
And the dreams they hold
Bad decisions and moments of greatness
Streams of words flow from them
As they walk past me
Their stories whispered to me gently
By the beeze that follows them
A story perhaps true
Perhaps only a vivid tale
Woven by the very breeze itself
Who is as curious as I