Counter clockwise
We spin our smiles
My color child
Is red green and white
My ears are whored
To those who afford
To populate the populace
Reverse roads
Lead to motions
Centuries old
And those who
Send the bland view
Say the cream culled
Is worth the cost
I haven’t moved
The statue of
The whizzing youth
Stares into the distance
Begging for attention
Does my age
Make me think more
Than I should?
I turn off my phone
Close my iPad
And figure out
how to have fun
Images are by me.