I passed the Shoreline Star, and old palace by the
star studded bricks of factories, neighbor to the
chipped tooth windows of an old America.
These tracks cut through the oldest section of a
graveyard, early 1800’s maybe older, much like the
road I took when I left Toshima.
An odd trip seeking for new perceptions.
Listening to Haydn, sun blaring like brass over quiet travelers,
surrounded by the beautiful foliage of New England,
surrounded by the smirking light off graves.
The sound of Autumn joys are in decay.
Serenity tangles with my emotions,
Nostalgia is for the times we miss.
Uncertainty are the secrets the future has in store.