Easy Come, Easy Go

by herespang

It’s early afternoon;

Gentle sun and silky breeze.


The leaves flutter and

The branches sway, 

Together leaving patches

Of shifting, speckled shades 

On the pebbled ways. 


Sitting on a bench

In the midst of it all—

Friday’s concluding outflow,

Never too different 

From its morning influx—

He wondered

If they were just a big,

Unwary herd after all. 


Jazz, Jazz—

All that Jazz.


She leaned back and

Watched the daily round,

Where certitude lies

Forever long.