I’ve gotten into knitting lately,
Even though I’m young.
It is a calming activity,
Accumulating rows one by one.

The relaxing part is the perseverance.
It takes time to make progress,
Yet once you finish,
The product is worth it.
You created it all yourself.
That feeling of achievement
Doesn’t leave me in stitches,
But in awe of the world.

You use up your resources,
The ball of yarn gets smaller.
Soon you will need a box
To contain all of your passion.
You yearn to create,
To achieve,
And to accomplish.

Repetition and persistance
Can reward all who try.
Even though a stitch may be lost,
Or the needles clang together,
You can always get back to it.
Giving up is pointless.

Everything has its place, and time. Some things, sometimes,
don’t want to be put away, they want to be visible and present,
so that when you are ready to notice them they will be there,
waiting patiently for your awareness.

The unwashed teacup is simply resting, until such time
as you offer the caress of your hands in a warm bath
of cleansing. There is no judgement from the cup, just
patience and contentment in its wholeness.

The open magazine, folded back on itself since
last February, has merely been spending time catching up
on missed readings, enjoying the imprint page and readers’ selfies
that are generally not given the time.

The ***** laundry on the tiled bathroom floor has a
real opportunity to co-mingle in ways
that a sorted chest of drawers or double-rack hang space
would never allow—so they too are grateful.

All waits patiently until such time as you,
sometimes gradually, sometimes suddenly,
are unburdened enough, attentive enough,
accepting enough, to respect each thing in turn,
and help each to find its place with you.

Her silence, speaks
Deep dark voice
I begin to understand
She taught, I learned

She taught me
What, and
How long
Patience means

She taught me
Why today’s patience
Worth better tomorrow
And, tomorrow will come

Someday

a little more love
a little more kindness
a little more patience
a little more trust
a little more happy

At the age of six,
I had my first kiss stolen--
by a blue-eyed boy in kindergarten
It wasn't that I disliked the moment
Rather, I felt somewhat indifferent
Was I supposed to feel something?
Warmth, butterflies, disgust--anything?
Still, I smiled and patted his flushed cheek
I wanted him to smile instead of being so meek

> Unfortunately,
they moved away
later that same week <

At the age of nine,
I saw that same boy once more
He was noticeably less cheery than before
Not knowing if he recognized me in that instance
I decided to still take the chance
So I approached him and said,
      "Is the boy from before dead?"
With a roll of his eyes, he sneered,
      "Are you stupid? Can't you see I'm right here?"
I could only shake my head
      "Then why won't you smile for me instead?"

> I think he looked cute
with his eyes wide
and his cheeks red <

At the age of twelve,
We went to the same school
I was the quiet kid, and he was the class fool
We were a fairly strange combination
But we fit well despite the little complications

> Life went on
pleasantly soft and silent--
without any confrontations <

At the age of fifteen,
That was when he then confessed
For so long his feelings had been repressed
I was honest--I couldn't return what he felt
It was alarming to see his expression melt
It wasn't that liking the same *** was bad
But I just didn't feel the same things he had

> determined, he said--
      "I'll try again next time!"
it made me surprisingly glad <

At the age of eighteen,
I started to explore the idea of romance
I even thought about possibly giving him a chance
But naive little me decided to go with someone new
Someone that I admittedly barely knew
Still, we had pretty much barely started
I was eager with the direction we were headed

> If only--
those happy little thoughts
had actually lasted <

At the age of twenty-one,
As you were busy nursing your broken heart
You and I slowly grew apart
I hated not having you by my side
But I knew that wasn't something for me to decide
I was still with my first love, surprisingly
Though we were starting to become a bit shaky

> Later that night, I came to you--
quivering lips and tear stained cheeks
i found out that he was cheating on me <

At the age of twenty-four,
After I put my silly little relationship to an end
Me and you gradually became even closer friends
It was amazing how your feelings still remained--
Even after all the mistakes I've made
It makes me wonder what it is that you see
To keep you from simply giving up on me

> Still, I couldn't
get rid of this nagging feeling
inside of me <

At the age of twenty-seven,
I finally gave you the answer you wanted
It even felt like a giant weight had been lifted
Sometimes I wonder if I had just been confused
Maybe the idea was just something I stupidly refused
What I thought were only feelings of friendship--
Were actually desires for a more intimate relationship
It amazed me how little I understood about myself
So, I wanted to learn--
      not just about me,
              but about you as well.

< I wonder if I fell for you when--
I started referring to you as "you"--
instead of just "him" >