My Mind

Sometimes I wander so deep into my mind,

To reality, I go blind.

When I am jolted out of my precious reverie,

The real world is foreign to me.

Colors, so bright.

Sounds, bring fright.

Sights, too vivid.

Words, are rigid.

My soul is so sensitive, it stings.

My eyes are hurt by the tangible things.

My heart breaks, bit by bit.

I feel the darkness settle more by the minute.

So again, I return to the inner workings of my mind.

I shield myself, inside my head I am free & unconfined. 

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The Things We Store Inside

Forgotten rhymes hide between the dusty attic rafters in my mind.

Untold tales stare out through the stained glass windows in my eyes.

Clouded thoughts drip their raindrops through the tin roof of my soul. 

Unwanted memories are veiled by the dark curtains in the corners of my core.

Fragile heart guarded safely by the birdcage of bones in my chest. 

Unheard cries stay deep inside the cold cellar of my lungs.

Shunned regrets knocking on the front door of my brow.

Unrepentant lies echo through the corridors of my ears.

Empty promises hang like cobwebs on the built up walls of my being.

Unspoken words catch like soot in the chimney of my throat. 

Shaky breaths try to escape through the cracks of my wooden floor lips. 

Unfulfilled dreams lurk ominously within the hollow shafts of my veins.

All these hidden moments of my life, housed in this tired, broken body of mine. 

Tender Moments 

  On a crisp, late autumn morning, a mother and her son walk through the woods; soaking up the last drops of fall, before the chill of winter arrives. 

  While they walk, they listen to the fallen leaves crunch under their feet & the birds coo their last calls before flying south. The mother smiles as the boy jumps into every single puddle that comes along the path; testing out his new rain boots & scaring away the wildlife with his infectious laughter.

  As they near the bridge that goes over the brook, the mother reaches down to hold her son’s hand.

“Your hands are ice cold!” The mother exclaims in concern. “Let me blow on them.”

  The child looks at her curiously, then surrenders his hands to his mother. 

  She cups his tiny fingers and blows on them. The boy giggles as her warm breath tickles his palms.

“Here, you can have my mittens. They’re a little bit big, but they’ll keep you warm. Then you can put your hands in my pockets too.” The mother sweetly muses with a grin. 

  The son reaches up and lets his mother slip the oversized mittens onto his bare hands; his petite fingers drowning in all of the extra room. 

  They begin walking across the bridge & the mother takes her son’s hand and holds it inside her pocket. The child smiles as he feels the warmth & tenderness of his mother’s grasp. He stops & looks up at her thoughtfully, with the bright color of his caring eyes popping against his rosy, cold-flushed cheeks. 

“I love you, mommy.” The boy says in an innocent, yet serious tone.

  The mother stares down at him & a single tear falls from her eye.

 “I love you too, darlin’. So much.” She responds.

  He puts his arms in the air motioning her to hug him. She picks him up and he nestles his face into the collar of her jacket, then kisses her cheek. 

  They walk away singing a familiar tune that they sing every morning on their walks together & they crunch the leaves to the rhythm of the song. 

Watching The Crowd

I sit and watch a crowd,
As the world spins by, fast & loud,
I examine every person & think about how
Each one lives a unique life, yet all of us share this moment of being right here, right now.
Our stories, experiences, & memories are all unlike.
I can’t help but wonder what each person is like,
I closely watch each one pass
Saddened by the thought that you never know if this day could be their last.
I want to know the reasons for every frown & smile I see.
I want to know those who go home to down pillows, and those who make their beds under a tree.
I want to try & help those having a bad day.
Offer advice, or just be there to listen to every word they say.
I want to cheer with them during happy times,
Be there to celebrate the things they accomplished in their lifetime.
I yearn to hear their stories & tales.
I want to be there through their joys & their ails.
Yet all I do is observe,
My own well-being, I must preserve.
For, I inevitably feel so much of others’ emotions.
I can’t take on added worries & pour more water into my heart’s already flooding oceans.
Yet, I still notice the pain, the glee,
In each & every face that I see.
So I’ll just sit & watch the crowd.
As the world spins by, fast & loud.