I see you-
With your wide eyes,
And your hands stretched out,
Ready to catch the world
At the tip of your fingers.
You're searching
For a reason to escape-
To hop on the next ship
To God knows where,
And make metaphors
Out of all the wrong places.
I see you with your casual grin
And your nose scrunched up like this.
You're sniffing out danger-
following all the red flags,
And searching for a story-
One about the line between
Staying alive and living.
It looks a lot like
A crime scene
And your hands are painted bright red.
I see you with your
Too thick sweater
And hiking shoes.
You're preparing for the worst,
Whether the weather
Or the rickety trail ahead.
All you want to do
Is run until your feet
Leave the ground.
Your soles are a little worn in,
And your hair
Ruffed up from the hood.
You're afraid to let the raindrops in
Thinking you might catch a cold,
Or an excuse to latch
Your feet onto the bedroom floor.
Not you.
You were made for moving.
I see you
Looking at me-
Every instinct telling you
To walk away.
Just stop.
Hold on a little while, darling.
There's a cup of coffee
Freshly brewed
On the table downstairs.
Set down the baggage
And step inside.
The door's wide open,
And the cold is creeping in,
But right now,
You can keep warm
By the fireplace.
I may only have two hands
To hold all your troubles,
But I will gladly share the load.
All you need to do
Is stay.
The writer in me has been on hiatus for quite some time, but I think she's back. This is the third of three poems I've written in the past week. That's more than I've done in years. Here's to hoping the words keep tumbling out.
