Love and Youth on the Border, 1,2,3

1. Where Love and Thought are Woven

One day as I woke up in a Thumbdrive

a 16 plus 2 Sonnet (  Line count Foot)

permeated the space of a moment

that lasted forever in my own mind.

I never thought of leaving left not once

I  sustained what I wrought was replenished

Insubtrusive, oh IDK, a verb

that I now call a Noun "why?" just because

I go to the line where I lost my love

I lament it no doubt as I must, though,

I let it go and return to my thoughts

what thought had woven in and driven out

My love is gone and will never return

And like a willow tree back in Beaumont.

which dripped down its vines as a tribute

proportions of beauty tumultuous

2. The Will of the Wall, Otay Bridge

so sad to see the grated wall supine

like a worm that persists in stone cut dry

as it no longer serves any purpose

but to be an inert object to life

though it is an arc it suffers the strain

though it be of metal is still a brain

it is alive with its substances

of its fabric it is conscience as well

it is not what it never was that makes

a difference to its or even to us

we persevere uncaring of ritual

we live as we do for our survival

and none who lives wants to sample of death

but what about the bridge itself? Its shell

that alone makes it worth more than nothing

it’s as if it has a will of its own

3. Tunnel to my Youth, Wilshire Blvd.

The tunnel is an arcade through it pass

the largest networks for transit of goods

teeming with destinations like wild

just to imagine it blurs the message

you once loved to eat certains foods when young

when every new taste was so delicious

you wanted to go to each restaurant

you never found so many reasons

staying at home was boring and squalid

better to live off Wilshire Boulevard

wake up and head straight to the bakery

then take out a pen and write a few words

you'd sit there and stare out the window

whether or not it sounded beautiful

you wouldn't throw out the bit of paper

to save what could have been lost forever

it's as though it had a will of its own

This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.