I had another poem
but somehow it got lost
in the closing of windows.
I swore I had saved it.
In it's place is this poem
with the same name
about the passage of time,
the mistaken of actions,
and the curious ways
we continue to pick ourselves up
and carry on to the next
season of life, to the next
days where sunshine causes
the water to glisten
in the morning hours,
a reminder to think outside
of the mess of our internal
selves. May we bloom into
the humans we're supposed
to be, whoever that may be.
Kelly Severseike 