the mist of my voice
lays gently on the cold window
the sun is yet to shine
as i leave my comfort behind
still warm and fetal beneath
duck down doona's

i tell the house goodbye
and that i will return, anon.
and step forth into the frozen dew
sparkling on the winter faded lawn

once in the car, I sigh with deep breath
this is something that needs be done
but my heart falters at leaving the nest

for it is away i must go, to find some rest
it is to leave in order to stay, to be my my best
each year i take this small season of me
each year i go... go be alone in order to hone
my mind and shed dark blue barnacles
so upon my return my boat runs smooth
through river and wave, calm and typhoon

i retreat from this world and this world from me
i go find a place full of water and tree
and there i sit and sleep and walk,
very little do I talk, i do not perform
or  teach, i do not quest or overreach

i am but pebble in a river,
the water, washes and reforms me
i am but budding leaf, on tree
the sun energises me

I am snail, content,
within my fragile shell

I am quiescent, within my soul

If poetry sites
never existed , would we
even write poetry

If you only got
one like or one heart would you
still write poetry

If you were never
reposted shared or trended
Would you still write

------

None of those things
above matter ,writing should
be enjoyed by oneself

if you ask me if i'm fine,
i won't lie and i'd say no,
i am not.

if you ask me if i've found someone else
i'd smile and i'd say no,
it's still you.

if you ask me if i still feel the same way,
i'd smile and i'd say yes,
it never changed.

if you ask me a question,
i'd always have an answer that
i've always had stuck in the back of my mind,
and that answer is you.

so please ask me,
because i won't.

ask me please,
ask me if i still love you.

if you would,
i'd say i do.

but even if you won't,
i'd still do.