I am from toaster
From toaster strudel and bagels
I am from the small space with too many bodies
Cold, old, musty
I am from the acorn
The maple tree
Whose long limbs I remember
As if they were my own.
I’m from movie nights and slender fingers
From Hélène and Luc
I’m from thinking of the worst outcomes and crackling knees
And from moving forward
I am from finish your plate and don’t draw on the car
And twinkle, twinkle little star
I am from Canada
I am from Quebec
I am from being locked out of the house
And desperation
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
Blissful quiet
Where I can let my thoughts unravel,
Wander awhile
Let my mind loose
Solitude,
When I can finally sit
And write poems, stories, and letters to myself
With no interruptions
No disturbances
I call this place home
This place is my own
Safe from the problems outside
Stuck inside my own solace
Alone, but not lonely
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 10:43 AM UTC