Your passion blooms yellow,
Like the smile of a rising sun.
The wind blows and the daffodils bellow -
They echo a crescendo.
Their spring has begun.

Their song flows across the ground,
Blooming budding emotions in its wake.
The nectar, mixed into the soil mound,
Has enough oxytocin to make a soul ache.

These daffodils grew over the snow in my lawn,
Melting the cold as their roots gripped the earth.
I kept warm among the blossoms as the hours rolled on.
My mind gradually defrosted - like a cerebral rebirth.

My winter has mostly ended, indicated by each perennial.
I have you to thank for planting the first bulb out there -
Double digging the stubborn dirt, yet remaining congenial,
Despite the unfit sod and icy air.

I owe it to you that I've recovered whatsoever:
My cognitive crime scene, solved with your empathetic luminol.
Perhaps young love is a foolish endeavor,
But if that's so, then I'm the most foolish fool of all.

So I'll unabashedly listen to your daffodil crescendo,
And resonate with the joy in your living rhythm.
I'll plant you some chrysanthemums to match in yellow,
So we can sit together with them.

the sun rose in the east,
only cries and wails
in white hoarded rooms,
where a new day starts,
and endings birthed,
and where the sun
sets in the west,
waiting for a better
tomorrow.

In the kitchen
of the top floor flat
I’m ignoring the dread
and preparing a sandwich

There’s garlic mayonnaise spread thick
from each seeded crust
tessellated lettuce
buttoned jalepenos.
It’s the ‘ham’ that confuses people-
you can’t tell that it’s quorn from within.

I cut it into squares,
my triangles were never neat enough.
Tomorrow as I crunch and bloat
I’ll be thinking of how to break the news
word the resignation
and sign it cursive sarcasm.

From now on,
no confused and
overbearing voice
will ask me-
‘I thought you were vegetarian?’

I kept walking for forty years;
I had my joys and my tears.

I was a daughter, mother and wife;
I was told that this is life.

I have no regrets.
I have met my targets set.

Then why this question sounds New?
When she asked me “Who are you”?

I fumbled; I stumbled.
But the question is still unanswered.

I am sad, I am nervous;
I was walking with No Purpose.

Maybe it's ok to let it go;
No one else will ever know.

Or, maybe it’s time to walk again;
To finally find “Who I Am”.

i once took shame in this struggle.
closed blinds,
empty body
'nobody needs to know'

believing myself to be a burden, i buried myself.

i spent years decomposing,
cold and unrecognizable.
a fossil of my former self.

but now i hold the shovel
and free myself from this earthen cage.
i am beginning to understand that there is beauty in asking for help,
and i have planted the seeds of self love.
watch as they grow roots and blossom

-here's to a fresh start

do you ever think about how easy it would be
to pack a bag with the moon still bright in the sky and
begin to drive?

it’s scary how much of life is taken for granted before you begin to realize how precious it is, how fast it goes. by the time i even grasped that i needed to figure out what i wanted to do with my life i was bring tossed onto the conveyor belt straight out of high school.

my identity was still unknown and here i was now, deciding the rest of it.

there’s a loneliness in freedom,
a creeping feeling of sadness that hides
in the corners of solitude and quiet.
It envelopes the corners of the mind

left undistracted, ideas wander
doubt sets in your head, anxiety in your gut

is this not what you asked for?
for ties to be cut?
did you not suspect the hurt and pain it might bring up?

and yet, like a stretch after a long nap,
relief from the strains that once held you

forward, alone
but maybe it’ll be okay.

Sometimes we
outgrow people
who don't
water us anymore