Siyona.S.stay

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

I like to think I smile more when autumn comes

I caught myself grinning out the window

Trees back home don’t look like that, so full

A tree skirt has a Christmas connotation

But the middle of October brings its own

I stare at the blank, grey wall.

A metaphor on the tip of my tongue

"Shoot, writer's block."

I sit in front of this screen, fingers resting on the keyboard.

Again and again, I think I've run out of words.

I remember back in those days

When kids were friends just because they wanted to be

Before trivial things designed social boundaries

Create

writing

medium or genre

poetry

body

this is my routine;

come home from school

open to this the first chance I get

write.

Write 

write 

write 

I'm

confused

did I do it

what happened?

You were melancholy earlier

what is going on

what did I miss

was it me?

You talk in subtle hints

but what are you hinting at?