What the Lilac Blooms Can't See

I close my eyes
and turn my head
and let the lilac blooms
pretend they can't see me.
Eyelashes and lids
are smashed together,
and I beg belief
to make these trees
forget my shortcomings
(just for a moment).
I wish change was as easy
as a new thought -
which it is, in a way
and is not, in a way.
Lacking a path,
I have only the choice of
the next moment,
and the next,
the hope that I will choose better.