I'm still ripping out my eye lashes
It makes me sad.
I lay and wonder about the woes I cast
and why I feel so bad.

Reflection is a tricky thing.
It can bring up so much, but is never-ending
Like the hyphen between never and ending
Reflection is a process that loops.

You can feel as if you're on top of the world
Once you've climbed out of a pit after reflecting...
only to fall into a ravine after taking a few steps outside instead of running.

The journey to healthy is a tough one.
I feel like I'm splashing in this gorge
Flapping and flailing around,
trying to escape and get warm

Overtime, I slow down more and more
until finally, I want to give up
Succumb to the bubbles...
and perhaps, never wash up.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                            These are not the Leaves of Autumn

These are not the leaves of autumn, these husks;
They died so young, fallen from the summer-burnt oaks
Leaving the lingering limbs barren of green
A struggle of woody cells against the drought

They wear no celebratory colors
Nothing of red or gold to catch the sun
For they died of thirst in their lost-green youth
Never reaching the October they had earned

These are not the leaves of autumn, oh, no
But only shells dry-rattling in the wind

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                Even the Oak Trees are Dying

              “Wildfire…evacuation of nearby residences under way”

                                               -news bulletin

Poor drought-dead leaves in mockery of autumn
Wind-rustle across the lawn as the dried husks they are
Rattling like withered exoskeletons along the dust
Or The Ancient Mariner’s dead sailors upon the deck

The exhausted earth is hot from a summer of drought
Cicadas have no hope in their poor songs
A drifting dragonfly wobbles in its flight
And the weather reports are but cruel teasings

The sour smoke of a month of forest fires
Chokes even the stars, who in despair do not appear

would you run your fingers through my hair once more?
wash over me like an august rain
relieving me of the oh so cruel drought
i have cast upon myself

i wish i knew my worth
but it comes and goes as it pleases
like a tide pulling in and out
but i am nothing like the sea
i am a drought
waiting for rain and lemon poppy colored pollen seeds