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I wonder how many people leave their house and home these days
every morning without a plan or a roadmap
of what they are going to do;
I wonder how many people embrace
the not knowing what is going to happen;
I wonder how many people are truly free to think,
stop talking, look, and listen;
I wonder how many people are truly able
to stay in one spot and not move.
I am lucky to be able to do just that,
I am lucky to be able to sit back and relax
with a coffee in a comfy chair, like I am doing now,
looking out, and thinking about so many things-
I know not what-
and just writing something, anything,
whatever is on my mind, and what I see-
wanting to say what I can’t say outloud.

People love to express themselves so much,
people love to talk and share more than they realize,
people can’t wait to divulge,
people can’t wait to tell someone something face to face-
it’s written all over their expressions,
and you can tell that they have been desperate to disclose
their inner thoughts and opinions,
from the twinkle that you see in their eyes.

I don’t mean to be a watcher, and an observer of other people
just going about their daily lives;
I don’t mean to be a magpie of the interesting things
that I hear people say-
the chat of friends meeting up after a long while,
the back and forth of boyfriends, girlfriends,
husbands, and wives;
but I am always fascinated and entranced
by the stories of everyone I briefly come into contact with-
while I just sit there, drink,
take out my notebook, and think;
but I don’t think people truly realize how much they give.

I do this a lot, actually.
Every week I find myself at my favourite coffee house,
and I write about what is on my mind-
what I am feeling, and I am always asking a question of myself,
as I talk at the top of my voice
in the language of poetry,
because some things, I have discovered, cannot be said
without first finding the words and the means
to say what you want to say,
without the feeling of being limited in any way, or confined.

This poem, like most of my poems,
is a memory, a time-capsule,
a black and white fraction of time,
that was a part of my day, today.
This poem, like most of my poems,
is, and was, just a musing, a burst of inspiration,
and creativity, that I wanted to share,
and write, right away.

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