Tis quiet
here now
and cold
though the
sun like
a doting
governess chases
the chill
with the
promise of
warm sweaters
of dawn
Author: Harlan Didrickson
I first started writing this blog as a way to refocus my thinking after a debilitating mental breakdown in 2008. Having been educated in writing, I had hoped that my love for words would have left a trail for me to follow and, well, here we are.
To’s
And like
every other
jarring thing
this too
will pass
be swept
or kicked
or put
behind something
or someone
the past
has plenty
of room
for the
presents forgotten
and gotten
used to’s
Soup
It’s not that
it’s just why
that it was
of the how
and where we
both know now
but the why
the gnawing humidity
infused question lingers
long after like
a soups aroma
calls family to
dinner from all
corners of house
the why this
and why that
little bits found
at bowls bottom
haunting of taste
Answer
The only
answer that
you’ll find
is the
one that’s
within you
and if
it’s not
then there
really isn’t
a question
High
It’s always
been the
high notes
I hear
the twinkling
I imagine
snowflakes sound
and stars
also make
and eyes
that catch
only mine
do say
