Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Robyn Little Jul 2019
I am not sure what to write about Change

              What changes could I possibly mention?

The way your legs change to blue even if you wrap them up with care?

Or the way you best pray that on a particular icy day you don’t run out of underwear?

The way your nose will turn pink and numb and we will start to hurry through our exchanges

Because the more we don’t talk, the sooner we can get to warm and secluded places

Where we can’t be bothered by hustle and bustle, where we can use the cold as reasoning

                   As to why getting out of bed is a hassle

Later in the year, the orange will turn to green, for those with allergies our throats will clear

And the sun will cause our skin to singe, will cause our dairy treats to melt and ruin our binge

But for some of us, the cold leaves with our excuse for privacy and voices hit like the heat

                             ‘Come outside!’ they cry

                             ‘We never see you anymore!’

But you’re afraid to step into the sun, afraid to feel the burn, no matter how much you want to

Because your legs may freeze and your nose may turn pink in the cold

But the panic in your chest when faced with a warm laughing world is far too old

This is most likely not what you expected when you asked me about Change

But I’m afraid we’ve spoken too long so leave me alone in my chosen cage
Fun Fact - This was the poem that won me my college's poetry competition.
Robyn Little Jul 2019
You don’t know me
And you do not know my thoughts
I do not know you
Not your name, nor your person
So I don’t know whether or not
I’d want to be near you or leave you to rot
If I looked at you would you rock my world?
Hardly, your appearance is the only thing I would observe
And then we would never again cross paths on this earth
I love cats yet you might prefer dogs
I live where it’s sunny yet you may hail near the fog
I travel by car a short way, though I’d gladly board a plane
To travel a great distance, But maybe you’d board a bus in an instance.
Are you one to flinch when someone raises their hand?
Do you have anyone? A friend? Anybody with whom you have made plans?
Are you tired of this world? Or are you learning to join the dance?
I could believe anything about you because I will never meet you
You are a stranger, not unlike a ghost
And yet today, you are in my thoughts the most
My first poem on this site.

— The End —