In my own little world fireflies stay in open jars
Flowers paint on their colors for the next day,
And the moon laughs while it walks away.
The trees speak of ancient scars,
The creek brings up lost trinkets from afar,
And the animals cry for freedom,
But freedom is not free.

Some days I appreciate the morning sky

Some days the trees speak to me
And I feel
free

There are days where I don’t go outside

Days that I feel far away

The trees loom over me,
dark and haunting
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At night I watch the row of streetlights
waiting for one to flicker
I listen for the faint noises of traffic
amidst the quiet air

I watch the moon as if it can see me
It shines down in a crescent shape

I whisper goodnight to the empty street
Leaving behind the ghosts that surround me

I find my place in the sky
Among the stars….