Poetry

It’s formed by rocks,

Which undergo weathering.

It’s what dunes are made of,

Mounded by the wind.

It’s spread on a beach,

Admired by passersby.

Friends come and go.

Some may say like the seasons turn,

but that metaphor's not strong enough for me.

Friendships are like children's toys.

Friends come and go.

A child gets a new toy; gives it a name.

America, the beautiful place of the free.

Where people from everywhere come to see,

to speak and love and create with others.

To live and laugh with our brothers and sisters.

The ocean of my mind swirls-

these waters have been tested.

Sirens sharpen in the distance

as the hurricane names me next.

The wind of panic wraps my neck like a noose-

When I was a little younger than I am now, 

I went home after school and wrote until bedtime.

That was enough to take me into the stratosphere. 

I'd play in the cloud for hours and hours.

it only gets their attention when it’s thousands dead

that one little boy had hopes , dreams , and fears , smiled when he was happy and when sad , cried tears

“land of the free” but we watch our step, so we don’t get taken away, and our rights are slowly started to fade

let the ice melt
let them lose their pelts of hate and coldness
let them see

let them see the horror they cause,
turning neighbors into enemies

the morning arises. the grandma praying for her day the teenager walking his mini poodle thinking about the schoolwork he has

the teacher arriving to work planning her lesson

Isn’t it beautiful?
Soil in your cuticles,
the sun ever so bright—
not one day does it forget to shine.

The visible dew,
the sky, oh so blue,
we call it spring.

I had led my own crusade to

the stars above; to the unknown.

Through soles of my feet, I graced the

lights upheld. Carefully, I danced 

to the song of success. Chasing

She didn't text him

And as her eyes watched a flashing screen,

her happiness 

Thaws

She sent the message

And as she goes unanswered now,

Her comfort

Thaws