July Sunrise

The fog gathers into dust
as it floats longingly for wind
while empty holes begin to lost
for a day with hopefully rain.

There upon that bridge one day
not too long ago.
A child crying her pain away
not knowing where to go.

For life is never sure
nor is the ever-changing heart
Whose pain endures
the loneliness of the dark.

A kind stranger walks by
whistling his song
Strumming as a tear slips away
As he mutters softly
"Move along you hear, this is not the way to go."

- Denver Mendiola

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