The shadows move in circles
as the world does.
As we live
it spins
_

it moves through my fingers like water
leaving no trace except
                                          that evaporates.

Do you ever wonder
if the painter
tires of his colors?

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

Some flowers don’t get picked
They stand alone
At the edge of the field
Shaded politely for too long
Waiting for the rain


© MJL 2021

for fear of feeling full

I’m wondering and wandering
my building’s full of ghosts

I convince myself I like it here
I try I sigh I do

the emptiness still falls
from the walls of my room

I am angry
I am restless
I am lonely
I am “full”