Slice of Life 4

This was so rushed, but grateful to have the “pressure” of getting words on the page!

Today–so little time

But I will not leave the day without

Writing something.

I wonder why I am inclined

To format my writing into

Poetic stanzas?

I am certainly no poet,

But poetry squeezes

My heart and reminds me

That anything can inspire

poetry

A blade of grass,

A child’s whine,

A flock of crows silhouetted 

Against the blue sky–

But, am I just listing things?

Is that okay?

One time, I sat on the floor

Of my parent’s attic–

Which, I have to say

Will always be my favorite place

There is no contest–

I mentally cataloged each thing

In an effort to hold on to

Those things that were already gone.

The mustard yellow carpet,

Piles of national Geographics,

Books, maps, photos–

The mundane and the extraordinary–

And so,

I will continue to list,

Continue to collect–

Even when I just don’t know how to end it.