“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion
I miss your smile these days.
I trace my steps through the summer season
searching through memories I thought I lost
only to reappear in instances where smells
remind me of my childhood.
I avoid driving by your house
in the winter, I hate seeing someone
who isn't you celebrating in the house
I called home in the warmer months.
Christmas lights glistening don't feel right
when the grass isn't green, all the times
my feet got dirty running barefoot up
your long driveway.
In the days of summer, time slips into
the vast puddle of shallow memories.
I sit in search of honesty, making sense
of what I will never fully understand.
Patiently, I listen and take in information
that's not mine, assessing the gravity of
situations I only can lend empathy to.
The air is hot after the sun sets
summer evenings pull me in.
Nightlife, for once, is fun.
Joys in conversations,
magic in poetry,
and unexpected shocks,
reminders of loved ones.
The sliver of the moon
towards the east
lights the drive home,
daylight lingers softy,
peace is welcomed.
Summer has settled in the air
along the shore I watch the boats
go by on the coast
'tis the season for observation
I watch closely as the haze
comes then fades in the distance
of the day.
Patience is a delicate dance, one in which
the steps are mapped out but only so far.
One in which it can slip out of grasp
causing damage to commence in its wake.
Choosing peace and quiet to sit
as I watch the dancers grasp
the concept of change
as I try to understand
my own.
I walk down to grab a doughnut from
the coffee shop, smell the flowers,
admire the waves, embracing the summer,
the new season lingers in the air.
a good book
my niece's laugh
the sound of the ocean
the color of flowers
phases of the moon
music I play on repeat
fuzzy socks on a cold morning
first cup of coffee
a healthy smoothie
quiet hours
long conversations
big questions with no answers
accepting things wholeheartedly
finishing a poem
Drowning out the noise of the day,
trying to exist without getting lost
in the ocean of my own thoughts.
I seek beauty, make stories in my head,
dance out the darkness until it
no longer enraptures my every step.
I'm okay, I say, I'm okay.
These are the days where I'm beginning
to believe my own words.
I spy a bird in the distance on a rooftop
signals of summer in the air
heat manifests in rooms
with no a/c, the east coast
living drips down my skin
I listen to the morning
my morning coffee going cold
a book resting on my keyboard
places there when I took this photo
inspiring a poem through an open window.
Mid-May, midweek
Early rise, high 60s /
low 70s, make way for
tourists to flock towards
the sun but for now
I walk along the sand
losing count of my steps
breathing in the possibilities
of a new season.
Kelly Severseike 