Siyona.S.stay

today's air tastes like berries

and overused metaphors. the shadows run

across golden ground, and i look 

at our old stone wall like they would in farmers' days.

a boundary, a gate

ywp is my 

s 
  a
     v 
        i 
           o 
               r 

Each stanza is its own word. The first letter of each line is a different letter of the word. It is an acrostic poem.

Lots of different words

I'm walking on a balance beam

I knew this would happen.

We all work so hard for this

You do too

We try to include everything

Every article

Every story

We can't

We have page limits.

Orange pen

curving, looping, tracing my thoughts onto a page

fulfilling my orders

moved by my hand.

Orange pen

flying, soaring, leaping

dancing across the page