Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Why so expansive
Why so interested
What have I done
To deserve this
Yes it was a place
From my past
Central to the city
Where I might have found you
Yet without any love interest
Not anyone that I remember
Bur why would I
It was such a long time ago
