This is not the sweltering pace i'm used to.
Our lives are deliberately slow and so.
we can take in more of our surroundings.
Our journeys currently _inert_twined.
Best explained as two passengers on a bus ride.
Oh! But never getting on or off at the same stop.
That's OK. I like seeing your face.
The way you look at me,
politely as you make your way to *your* place.
It's comfort not found elsewhere much these days.
We are much too old for that.
Soft toys and ice cream no longer bring smiles.
Our parents stopped loving us long ago too
The present's not simple.
Even so, we push on -- the brakes,
Years of our lives have been wasted away.
All the rot and decay,
Perhaps there's untainted wonder within. still. left to colour our days.
How i wish that i could still remember,
And live again those childish cliches.
