in a world forced into a hush,
our minds crave words spoken close.
our stories shared across time zones itch,
while inside we scream for release.
idly waiting for the tomorrows
when meetings will be filled with embraces,
we dream of kisses,
and we’ll read each other’s faces
and know exactly what it means,
not filled with frustration from a frozen screen.
we dream of soaking in moments
while delaying the tomorrows even further.
one day soon, we say, we’ll no longer meet in isolation
but gather with our loved ones.
we yearn to linger in the warmth,
the touch, the feeling of being close once again.
*a rewrite from the original poem posted May 2, 2020.
A writer yearns to tell their story, any story,
that will stand the test of time
full of hardships conquered
and inspire generations with hope.
The story shall feel whimsical,
not so much with fairies dancing
but that there is a happy ending.
The story shall have brevity,
not so much as a long weathered tale
but one that details just enough.
The story shall be one that others dream of
and inspire even the darkest ones with hope.
The depth of emotion shall brighten the skies.
The cutting edge shall be sharp as a fresh-cut sword.
Giving what many have lacked.
Inspiring strength to withstand.
Readers everywhere want a story, any story,
because our story is yearning for hope.
settle back down into your cave
settle back down into that space you crave
no more reaching out for company along the shore
no more reaching out for what’s beyond the door
the ghost killer haunts each of us
stay inside we must
free yourself from your cave
free yourself from that dark space you made
reach out for company along the shore
reach out for what’s beyond the door
the ghost killer haunts ‘you must behave’
it’s time now to be brave…
My insides are frantic
red hot and rebellious
toiling and pacing
until we can find an end
Searching for peace
a single breath
that’s what it might take
or a walk
deep into the forest
and without a sound
of anyone around,
and let it all out