"Simply Roses..."

Black coffee drawn
a single seat table
mingled sounds
muted distractions -
lives flowing by
  ebbs and crowds
  going and going
all the "wheres" considered
but seldom the "whys".

Intermingled senses
both bitter and sweet
the tastes of roving eyes
  passing without pause
- timeless dismissal
- unseeing approval
freeform gestaults...
a world of mimes
  all the little boxes
  trapping each within
  invisible assumptions.

I am ME by the hundreds
  echoes all around -
not you
  unlike any you
I am ME alone
myself
the chosen I
  flavored and favored
  living and alive
  choosing and doing
as each I must...
But
in the end
we're simply roses.

Chris Twyford
Ancient117331
5/01/2004