The girl next to me
Hasn’t made eye contact
This whole ride
We haven’t exchanged words,
So I review my own.

Oh the words of a younger me!
Scratch a dent in the sand
Before the tide comes in
Tickling my mind and
A little grating
But still cute and quaint
A heart drawn with a stick
Before being washed away

Oh the body of an older me!
I am too aware of
Growing moles
And fat
A stereotype wrapped in personality
cracking as the story of me
Slowly sets in

Oh the idea of future me!
who knows the amount of blank left
to fill?
I know nothing but that
Slowly
I am learning
To take up space

This train keeps stopping
And we are granted
views of construction trucks
Pallets
Stone walls
And our own thoughts

Bodies shrugged over seats like sweaters
Boredom leaking out through pores
Flooding this compartment
As stagnant as a puddle

Yet,
Being a passenger
The view ever shifting scenery
somehow
stills time for me
Making space for sentimentality

Contemplating
Loving deeply now
scraps of fabric
Seeming so unimportant on their own
But together forming a quilt
Who knew? My love language is
Sewing
Piecing together
Quiet moments
Cleaning sinks of dishes
Scheduling our dreams
Making fun of reality Tv
Trivia
- don’t forget missionary
Made less and less of grand adventure
And more of our home

While these dreams once seemed
So small they serve
To cover us
And keep us warm
Through the winter of the world.