maelynslavik

I’d like to garden

My own heart,

To pull the weeds of sadness

And hate

From the foundation

I sprout from,

To plant seeds of hope

I remember sitting

In my mom’s lap,

Her arms curled around me,

The rocking chair creaking slightly

In the breeze of her love,

Swayed and lulled by a sea

Smoke curls into the air,

Twirling,

One thread dipping another,

A slow waltz

With some quick steps to spark

The band,

A careful orchestra

I think our world knows

How easily we’re overwhelmed,

How quickly tiny scrapes

Can become full-blown scars,

How we need seven good comments

Fall often 

Stains our world brown, 

Leaves the color 

Of an old ruddy gold, 

Their tips dry, 

Crinkling with the cold 

I stare up,

Up at the sky,

At the vast open blue,

The only limit

My perspective,

With lenses ready

To sail me into the dark,