Reid@YWP

7:53 My mother has creases under her eyes I’ve forgotten I contributed to, laugh lines around her lips I didn’t realize were from jokes I’d made.

In Amherst's shade, where whispers grow,  
You stitched the seams of all we know,  
A bee's soft hum, a slant of light,  
Became the fabric of your night.  

school was called off but i still woke up early

i woke up early to watch the snow coat the green grass with white

as the window fogged, i lost sight

i grabbed my gloves and boots

I’d like a palmful of metaphors, 

Ones to use every time 

I put a pen to a page, 

To plant in my heart 

And become submerged in my hope, 

When you walk the streets of this city, 
What do you feel? 
What do you see? 

Do you see the life and wonder, 
That lies in the cracks of the sidewalk. 
The curious child asking his mother

One foot in front of the other

Pursuing the search for my goal

Feet pounding against the solid ground

Heart pounding against my chest

The rain pummeling the dirt 

The wind whisking the hair out of my face