So it’s over
The gloss of
Newness tarnished by
Weight of baggage
We all drag
Our past behind
Us like mailbags
Filled with bad
News try making
Peace with your
Demons then be
Comfortable with yourself
Only then then
Can you give
Yourself to another
Month: July 2021
MorningRain
It is raining
A small puddle
Forms at my
Feet bubbles born
By drops like
Rising bread loaves
From mother’s oven
I imagine a
Marsh with frogs
Leaping as I
Listen to the
Tiny tat tat
Tat of raindrops
And see the
Water collecting on
Grass like a
Thousand distant galaxies
Me
I am nothing
Nothing but free
The world my
Canvas and I
The pallet splashing
Colors and creating
Everything a new
A dab of
This and some
Of that a few
Wheres and a
Number of whos
But at once
A masterpiece called
Me
Home
For so long
I left to
Leave leave things
And people behind
Pain and problems
Unable to bury
Burn or ignore
I turned away
Running somewhere else
I found a
Wayside a respite
A place to
Mend and recover
Now strong again
And happy still
I’ve realized that
This isn’t home
But a refuge
Now absent of
Blunder denial or
Mistakes I set
My eye on
Somewhere new somewhere
That calls me
Calls me home
LastNight
The last of
Night surrounds me
Darkness haunts everything
Sleeps including these
Words trees blend
With sky creating
A blank canvas
Upon which the
Day will draw
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 