Contemplative

Today has been one of those days. You've had them. Little things happen that just make you sit back and say WOW. I was going to write more and embed a youtube but I think I'll keep that for tomorrow. Yesterday I said I'd post a poem and I never did. Today I'm in a different place - feeling very contemplative and as I was cruising through some old poems I came across this one and since it fits where I'm at today - I'm going to post it without dragging out the editor's pen. Can't remember how old it is, but I last revised it 3 years ago. Not quite a moldy oldy.

Chance
- The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.
Oscar Wilde

She tries to write a poem
about being invisible,
but the ink never appears
on the page,
the letters never appear
on the screen.
The thoughts that do come
she is unhappy with.
Discards them without
giving them a chance.

He asks the question
with the intention of just
offering up an interesting puzzle.
Which would you choose?
To be able to fly
or to be invisible?
Their children answer eagerly,
think this question fun,
give their answers,
then run off laughing.
It seems they all want to be
invisible, think of fun things
they could do if
given the chance.

She says quietly that she would
choose flight. She already knows
what it’s like to be invisible.
Spent years perfecting the skill of
fading into desks, walls, crowds.
All it took was a little bit of silence,
and poof! She could vanish.
Invisibility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
She would rather be able to fly.
Given half a chance.