I looked at my hands the other day.
Really looked.
I saw the flesh, and the sinew, and the odd curves as the tendons snake their way back into their home

I saw my right ring finger;
Remembered there was a scar
And I looked,
For a while.
And I saw it

Faded but there,
Clear and standing.
Brazen roughness against the smooth porcelain.

I remember an event,
I'm not quite sure.
A fall.
A scrape.
A tumble.
Some sort of momentary tragedy.

I don't remember how it happened now.
And I found comfort in that thought.

Be the raindrops that fall from the sky,
That brings peace and tranquility to my mind,
Be the clouds from up above that shade me from the harsh sun,
Associate yourself with the beautiful dew that brings vibrant green to the plants,
Be the calm after the storm that restores peace in my heart and the land,

Smile like the rainbow when the clouds part,
Let in soft rays from the sun as the grey fades,
And most importantly,
Remind me of the rain.

Watching the frozen water vapor,
Ice crystals, falling from the clouds,
Towards, the cold hard ground,
With a strong wind, blowing, in every direction,
Spinning them in circles, all around.
One of nature’s most beautiful sights,
As they arrive for their landing, so gently,
Never making a sound.
When the sun shines down, on everything,
Covered in white, it brings a hypnotizing, trance,
With it, in the air, everyone always stops,
Their day, taking a few minutes and stares.
A snowfall, slows the pace of life, for everyone,
To experience, enjoy, and see, as it covers, all
Generations, reminding us,
The most beautiful, wonderful feelings, in this life,
Come naturally, simple and free.


The original: Tom Maxwell © 02/17/2024 A.D.

i spend a quarter of my time
dreaming of days gone from memory,
their vestiges lost in anticipation
of something new—
something worth betting
my remaining life with.

i wish i could go anywhere,
yet like a bird in a cage
i am merely a slave to these chains
and there's little to no chance
i'm making it out alive.

there is reprise, they tell me,
in my laughter—
perfectly rehearsed,
unapologetically
apologetic of jokes
meant to soothe
my own misery.
it is all i know,
and it is all
i will ever need.

"you remind me
of greatness," they tell me.
yet they forget reminders
are odes to what used to be
rather than what is.

these days, i turn to the future.
"dreams are for the blessed,"
i tell myself.
someday they will fade
and i, alone, will remain.

there's something about silence that just reminds me of you
and since i can't run away from it, i can't run from you.
so may someone inform me as to what i can do?
i'm over these shrieks in the void that ring true
so blue.
quiet nights.

my mother always cleaned
it was her thing
more than hobbies
more than friends
erasing every previous day
it's accidents
it's happenings

little hand prints
adorn my walls
pencil scribblings
from budding Leonardos
and when I pass the second stair
a stain on carpet
from God knows where

I live the past everyday
making new futures
along the way.