Writing

There are vintage looking posters in the windows 

And they’re probably not old 

But I’d almost believe you 

If you said they were. 

They’re next to organic candles 

Imagine if

Every book came with a key

A key that opened a door

Into the book

Into the worlds

That are your happy place

Escape from reality

Taken to a new level

The joy found in between the pages

We try to stay quiet

despite the class being

nearly empty,

silent.

Muffle our laughter,

lower our heads,

cover our mouths,

attempting to

suppress our stalling.

Difficult

I'm not a painter, 
but if I were, you'd be my muse. 
I'm not a sculptor, 
but if I were, I'd only sculpt you. 
If I were a singer, I would never run out of songs, 

Here is another chapter in America's thirst for oil, a black liquid that fuels the cars that are killing our planet.

I am four

and a self-proclaimed 

hero of bravery.

The plane whirs in my ears,

loud and incessant and monstrous,

but I sit as soundly as I can.

Solemn and stoic,