Another morning. The sun pours in. The light shines through. Through the glass in the walls. These walls that feel closer, every day.
Month: January 2021
Out
I stand on the door step. Breathe in. The morning. Drops, falling, not hard, not soft, somewhere inbetween. The grass wet. The trees weep. I step out. Into the open arms of the rain.
Not here
I look out the window, rain running down. The cat wet at my feet. Washing waiting. Clothes need folding. A crack in the ceiling expands. I think of the sea. Of the waves that crash. The ones that lull. The fret that kisses my face. Pebbles I hold tight in my hand. Not ready to give up. To give back. To hold close a little longer. Right now, as the clock ticks, the day wastes. I’d rather be there, not here.
Tails
I think about your dog, the one I never met, who I never knew. You told stories of her often. Told tales of her life. Her tail wagging, carelessly. The daft look on her face. Your face smiled. Your voice lighter. I think of her now. Think of you, too. In the morning. In the evening. Every now and then.
Ice
Yesterday, I fell on the ice. And I wonder this morning. If all of me got back up again.
My bones bruised, my eyes tired. I sit here thinking what I left behind.
What I no longer have. Because I fell and no one was there, to pick me up, to wipe me down, to see what it was.
I lost. On the sheet ice.
Predictable
I put on the song. The one you like. Read the book you recommended. Sit by myself and drink tea. Not sure, anymore.