Wine and Vinegar

Little Spud in the Big Apple

“At the end of the day all my conscience can experience is limited to what is in my own mind,
so,
why should I care at all what happens inside the minds of others?”

penned quietly with the pads of fingers unknown to my device of primary communication,
“I can’t say that you need to care, I’m not one to always care either but I think it’s important for something deep inside.”

Letting the words steep like wine,
age with the settling dust of time,
and after years,
softly popping the cork out,
noting how the tannins have developed themselves,
and though this has taken so long in my world of words
it is nothing to the ticking seconds,
to your mind,
you have forgotten,
will more likely than not forget again
upon reading your old thoughts:

“why should I care at all what happens inside the minds of others?”

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