Listening to See: Existential Musings of a Poet

I was young and innocent

Back when

The happily-ever-after still exists

It seemed.

I thought I could jump to the roof

And bounce

Or fall to the cliff and Santa

Would fly.

But I grew up and began to listen

To see

The shouts of poverty, of misery, of hardship

All around.

The innocence dried out and so with idealism

All gone.

I now take one day at a time

Still smiling

Nevertheless aware and awake

Vigilant always

For now I know the ghost is not under

The bed

It loiters along the streets and you have to listen

To see.