Writing

i long for the times

of snow angels and sledding.

how free we were,

way back when.

we slipped down the hill,

narrowly avoiding several trees,

and mr. wilkins,

You didn’t notice

you didn’t notice when I stopped brushing my hair,

when I got two hours of sleep,

when I only wore long sleeves.

But you did notice when I stopped talking to you,

Today,

I saw a poster on my math teacher's door.

It said, You never know what somebody's going through. A little bit of kindness can brighten up their whole day! 

Star spangled

light speckled

bright flecks against dark

red

our blood

white

the favored color of our skin

blue

our limbs

our bruises

Why does it feel

Like happy poems

Are harder to write than

Sad ones?

Like when you're feeling good

The inspiration

Feels minimal

And harder to express

What do you think?

Big feathered wings 

Almost alone

In the middle of the ocean

Soaring through the sky

Or maybe swimming through the waves