Some days
writing feels like
a trek up Kilimanjaro

I look at you
and I

in pictures
and sometimes marvel and

sometimes blanch
at our hair and what we're wearing

good memories for sure
mixed with a few that are bad

but never any regrets about the places
we've been

and there's much excitement
about the brightness of the light

that illuminates the path
forward

Whit Howland © 2020

lord
fill my lungs
with
sweet air
wash
thy soul
in
the living water
so
that
i
can speak to thee
about
our
faithful affair
because
you are my rock
that
we share

I wish all your broken pieces get together, you know sometimes leaving is the biggest expression of love i can give.

I consider myself an impression of art....
Not the art you see in the museum's or the galleries
But the ones left unfinished and imperfect
The blank end of the canvas
The absence of completion
I am each erased line, the unsteady brushstrokes, and every mistake that leads to the Masterpiece.
I'm a work in progress