Sitting in the park with the sun caressing my body I think to myself the best things in life are free.
Alongside is a weary peddler hawking his wares, a subtle reminder that there is no such thing as free lunch
A woman in the finest attire draws attention of many a passerby, of course clothes maketh a man.
Once she starts to damn the crying child, eyes revert as you never judge a book by its cover.
A young boy practises his interview skills for he wants to make the first impression the best.
While his friends wonder out aloud aren't mistakes another chance of getting it right.
I see a man smiling to himself, perhaps thinking of his lover back home bringing to mind that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
But not without a streak of misgiving because isn't out of sight out of mind?
For personal benefit two rival politicians see eye to eye with the smug satisfaction that great minds think alike.
The bourgeois, watching this charade unravel thinks to himself fools seldom differ.
The only thing constant is change as night turns to day and youth to old age.
In the autumn of life when the body retracts to foetal position you know the more things change, the more they stay the same.
As I write this, unsure of its reception, I am half tempted to not publish for a silent man is a wise one.
But do I have a choice really for a man without words is a man without thoughts.
As the wise have said for a good life, always believe that something wonderful is about to happen but don't believe anything without reason because blind belief is a dangerous thing.
Comments