I find these last years rich and full
With things quite unremarkable;
With water towers such as this
At sunset on a day sans bliss —

But every day some mundane thing
Seems an extravagance to me,
For I am oddly rich with dreams,
And drunk on possibility —

Imagination’s wonderful,
The possibles are palpable;
Though some might think it falderal,
And all this,

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6 Thoughts to “Unremarkable

  1. I often think to myself, “I didn’t realize I was thinking that, until Owen said so.” That’s the sign of a real poet, Owen.

  2. Just keep palpating those possibles, Owen. I wasn’t thinking this. Your words sparked my imagination. Another sign of a real poet.

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