churn.

all of it was beautiful

until the storm hit

then every piece of "unwanted" floated to the

surface

hitting our feet

lingering between our toes

but the boy once had a touch of destiny about him

part of me cares less

my young self could live in a mobile home

if it had windows and a grand piano

he laughed at art

but i will give him the chance

his thought has not crawled

under my skin

and that worries me

for him

for her

for me--the afterthought

but the trash has floated up from the surface

leaving takes time