She liked how the carpet felt,
Scratchy against her cheek,
And how its texture grounded her to reality
When her thoughts were sweeping her away.
She sought after the smell of salt water and sand,
One deep breath in through the nose,
And her anxiety would slowly subside
As she listened to wave after wave crash against the shore.
She lost herself in soundtracks and sonatas,
The mournful requiems,
And the notes guided her along
To understanding the emotions she couldn’t put into words.
She collected novel after novel,
A colorful bouquet of covers and the crisp black of the text,
And she could never part with them
Because they painted pictures better than her eyes did.
She coveted the taste of hot coffee,
Sipped slowly and purposefully,
And how it forced her to take time for herself
Despite her propensity to skip the present in favor of the future.
