Somehow, unbefuddled, it all ties together,
The happy endings get tied, knots well made,
Sleep comes easy, the light dims slowly, finely,
Clarity, everywhere, not for taking, just for asking,
Wanting is off limits, even inconceivable, and the poem.
Why, even the poem finishes itself, and to all a very, Good Night

a grownup lullaby

If I were a month, I’d be September.
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Thursday.
If I were a planet, I’d be Saturn.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be coral.
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a bookshelf.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a sapphire.
If I were a flower, I’d be bougainvillea.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be a crisp autumn wind.
If I were a color, I’d be auburn. (much like my hair)
If I were an emotion, I’d be wonderstruck.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a pomegranate.
If I were an element, I’d be air.
If I were a place, I’d be a field of wildflowers in Scandinavia or a bookshop in Northern Italy.
If I were a taste, I’d taste like sweet and bitter black tea.
If I were a scent, I’d be the smell of freshly baked goods.
If I were an object, I’d be a pencil sharpener.
If I were a body part, I’d be freckles.
If I were a song, I’d be Thoughts of Flight by Edmund.
If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be **bright purple converse.

A different stage, a different story
Yet the same effect that poetry has on me
When the pain gets overwhelming
When I can't tell a soul a single thing
I tell through poetry.

You can't expect everyone to understand
And you can't trust everyone
Because they might judge you,
Leave you,
Or tell you things you don't want to hear
Or what you already know
It's what I fear.

Poetry doesn't judge
It doesn't talk
It only listens.

You don't even have to be afraid
To be your vulnerable self
Poetry is your friend.

sometimes flowers just bloom to cheer up the ground
&' sometimes stars just shine to keep the moon company
sometimes cigarettes burn so hearts can extinguish
sometimes demons scream so souls can rest in silence