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By Robert Stanhope
I am the lost one, On a journey to find me, Footprints are my past. 
Photo by Robert Stanhope
Location: Hardee Lakes County Park, Bowling Green, Florida
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By Robert Stanhope Cities never sleep, they nap, one ear and one eye open to sounds of an alley cat squabble, of a city bus's brakes squeal, of a loudmouth shouting out his window on a hot summer night, as steam rises from the urban underbelly, a pressure cooker.  By Robert Stanhope I remember days, visiting family, drinks with friends, live music, dining out, travel - the good times, before the world changed, before the walls went up, before the masks concealed, my smile, now a frown, what I'd give for normal, my joy freed from trapped sighs.  Photo by Myléne
By Robert Stanhope Walk with me today as the sun rises above to light our journey. 
Photo by Uliana Pinto.
By Robert Stanhope
While chasing my dreams I sometimes get lost, I sometimes get confused Between fiction and fairyland Some days I’m drowning, Some days I swim, And, last night I tripped on a cloud When I tried to fly I have real dreams Of creating these worlds That I can visit on vacation To take a break from a break Sometimes my dedication Is simple procrastination Or a fear of rejection When my words become publication In my dreams there’s no rejection Not even the giggling fairies Pass judgment on the guy That still doesn’t believe he can fly. She sits alone, at a distance,
legs crossed on a wooden bench, hands at rest on her lap, alone, quiet and observant, her surroundings familiar, faces of strangers seen each day, walking to and fro without a word, without a glance or a nod, feeling invisible in a busy park, ignored by eyes staring at phones, hoping for a glance, a smile, a person to share a seat, to discuss weather blooming flowers, the scent of Spring in the air. She knows me as a stranger, sitting in the distance, wearing a business suit, staring at strangers, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, avoiding contact, sitting center on a bench, saving a spot for her with a folded newspaper, arms stretched wide across the bench back, an open invitation to join, to discuss the weather, to see her smile, to hear her voice. Tomorrow’s another day, another date, with a stranger at a distance. |
Robert Stanhope
Writer and photographer. Archives
December 2022
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