Writing

The pristine white sheet burns into my eyes,

blank, like the thoughts in my head,

It’s daunting, mocking, empty.

I want to be able to do something, anything,

The ball kept rolling,

Spinning in circles,

Spiralling up the tree,

Again and again. 

The cycles never finished,

I’m scared I’ll keep on standing at a grave

of someone who isn’t dead.

That i’ll miss you forever 

even when I know you won't,

I live in the city of Minneapolis. Like most cities, there’s light pollution, car noises, and all the other things we associate with cities.

I’m in the woods again,

Trekking slowly,

Because I never see the birds,

Chickadee,

Goldfinch,

Downy Woodpecker, 

when I’m hurrying.

I always take my time, 

Snap photos of ferns, 

Yesterday I took a moment outside the cafe 

And watched people walking by 

You would think upon seeing me 

Tea in hand 

I was at peace 

And you are right