Each Saturday

I’m walking round this crazy town

searching for a little of you

finding little pieces here & there

each Saturday looking at beauty

eyes red from staring above

cussing clouds from feeling

emptiness deep down inside.

No, dear reader, this is not a happy

21 lines of life, love

instead it’s a heart bleeding

without apologizing for making a mess.

But if you’ll just take in the beauty

of this little flower

in shorter time than a quarter hour

you can return to your Saturday

and I, to each Saturday miscued.

Walking round within my mind

stumbling crazy out of time

realizing all the words

are much too late

to leave with the beauty known.

Each Saturday

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burn baby burn

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