Life Is

Yesterday I took some time to explore a few parts of Boston that are not as familiar to me,  and in doing so I found myself feeling something of a "writer's itch." During my train ride home, I jotted down this poem of sorts. I thought I'd share.

Life is squeaky trains crowded with people.
Life is bookstores tucked into less-traveled nooks of city streets.
Life is runny noses sitting uncomfortably in cool autumn air.
Life is a father wrestling with his children in green grass, their laughter and sublimity filling the air.
Life is a crippled man, dragging his belongings in a small suitcase behind him and clutching a cane, his weary eyes telling stories of sadness.
Life is lazing about on attic couches.
Life is a pile of blankets.
Life is a coffee shop packed with college students hovered over their laptops, discussing political theory and exams.
Life is music resonating so deeply with feelings that cannot be expressed in words alone.
Life is a smiling friend, bringing you water and Tylenol for your aches.
Life is a hug at the end of a long day.
Life is joy, sadness, confusion, frustration, rest, haste, despair, hope.
Life is.