The tempest of my thoughts, contained in a simple page.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Omelet Fridays

There's something serendipitous
about the way I walk to breakfast
alone each morning,
the way the route never changes
but the scenery always does

and I never know
if a year from now
someone will look over
and notice
and wonder why

or will it just be me
and my meaningless
beautiful
rituals?

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