Blurred Reality

The sights and sounds of all that we see,
exist in a hazy blur that cannot be.
The Vagrant blur clears just a little,
 in focus it becomes just a little,
 but yet these sights and sounds that we see,
Exist in a time and space that cannot be.

Of lamp posts and clock towers,
Standing tall over yellow flowers,
Dead branches and dead lakes,
White fenches and snowflakes,
The autumn wind announces,
The brick walkway dances,
In a blurred reality,
one that exists and yet cannot be,
These sights and sounds that we see.

As I Wander

As I wander on this nameless street,
by the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
 I gaze at the rustling leaf,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.

Like a dream that was not remembered,
but was never forgotten,
 I see visions of grass and the sun,
The sights seem familiar,
The air tastes of a memory,
Like the dew on morning windows,
Like the dead branches floating,
Like the numbness in fingertips,
Like the ghosts of memories.

As I wander this nameless street,
By the lake reflecting the invigorating sky,
stolen from the belgian's dreams.
I gaze at the colors of autumn,
and the sounds of stream and breeze.