maelynslavik

Composed on a run

With autopilot turned on

And an old love song
 

Quick little poems

With no start, nor a clear end

Grown just in my head
 

In a cozy nook

Not unwritten, but unsaid

i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,

lined paper covered in neat cursive

signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of

and not much else. their voices were warm and the house