I sat down this morning with no idea what to write. After exploring the recesses of this brain, three tiny poems need released. By the time I write those, I will have two more bubbling about. So happy Friday 🙂 I hope you like tiny poems!
What if anger was a ball we held
in the palm of our hand
and could set on a shelf
then walk away?
Long, scalding-hot shower to wash off the day
Soft, fleecy pajamas on a cold-rain night
Eight hours of dream-dotted sleep
A crackling yellow fire against early morning darkness
I have returned to myself.
What if time
is not a line or a circle
but a helix?
Are you the person you think you are?
Or the person you’ve always been told you are?
Death does not change the dead,
it transforms the living.
Maybe those last three are less poem and more thoughts, but how do you think a poem begins? Have a wonderful Friday, friends.