Just something I wrote a number of weeks ago and managed to misplace.
The rain is smacking the land beneath my window
and I listen intently for a sound I’ve never heard before.
I wonder if I was ever here –
When plants grow, they grow up to reach the light.
How do they know?
And where is my light?
My heart fills with every shade of red
besides the one I like.
I often wonder if I’ll ever find a frame
to hold a picture of me plus one.
It’s strange how we blame the smokers for tarnishing their bodies with chemicals.
We each have our vices.
Hold your fingers.