On days like this,
Why is it so difficult
To write a song
To build a time machine
To own up to mom
To shut the window to the glee of young rain.
To refrain from resorting to cliches
To lawfully adhere to the signpost 'do not walk on the grass'
To breathe in the subtle magic of a painting glistening with colors.
To stop believing in ghosts and gods
To do more than just stand and watch
To break the ice, the purest, hardest ice.
To distrust you, even as I know you're lying to me.
To discern the right answer in the face of death
To cut out the jargon, and oh, the preaching.
To just shut up, and listen, listen.