#everydaypoetry
⭐ THE UNPOLISHED SEASON — Poem V
The weather didn’t help.
Not with mood,
not with meaning,
not with anything, really.
The rain arrived first –
not dramatic,
not cleansing,
not trying to set a scene,
just wet.
It slid down the window
like someone too tired
to knock.
The wind followed,
shoving a recycling bin
into the street
with the bored persistence
of a cashier on hour nine.
The sun tried once,
leaning through the clouds
with a weak, apologetic glow,
then gave up
and went back to wherever
it keeps its better days.
Nothing outside
matched anything inside.
No metaphors,
no parallels,
no poetic weather report
to explain the morning.
Just a sky
that refused to participate,
a sidewalk
that didn’t care who stepped on it,
and a day
that wasn’t setting any mood
for anyone.
Which, honestly,
felt about right.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 4:19 PM UTC
When I got in the shower,
I noticed that you hung
your washcloth next to mine.
When I realized,
I stared at it for a minute,
feeling a relief that words
can't really assure.
Not exactly rocket science,
but it took me by surprise
to see it hanging there,
reaching over it to grab mine.
When I finished washing,
I rung mine out and hung
it back beside yours,
scooting it over to make sure
there was enough room
for both to hang.
The parts of ourselves
that we try to hide,
welcoming them both
back home.
A small gesture that made me
reconsider not just my day,
but you
softening the distance between us,
at least long enough to shower, dry off,
and see your face when I walk out
the bathroom.
You don't ask for more.
To be honest
It's not about the rags at all.
Just another thing that makes me
Think of you
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 7:16 PM UTC