poetry

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my own metamorphosis

four years
this space has been my own
it serves me well, I remain content
I remember wanting to be here, long before I was
a lovely illustration reminding me
hope can morph into reality
these walls have witnessed my own metamorphosis
change, albeit slow
back to who I once was

always and forever temporary

rain falling straight downward
no wind, no slant
splatting onto the roof, ground, any surface between sky and land
my lunchtime walk will be muddy if it occurs at all
I do not mind the rain, the forecast
as come what may, I cannot change it
there is small comfort in knowing I am not missing anything
I could be experiencing in the sunshine
as I work the day away
there is great comfort in knowing the rain will cease
rain is always and forever temporary
light has a method
clearing clouds, breaking through

top shelf

less than sublime

but isn’t life most often?

I desire more

and like I often feel at the grocery

reaching, actually climbing, foot on bottom shelf

trying to grab an item on top

just beyond reach, due to my petite stature

     often times someone asks to help

          often times I manage alone

the question, which begs an answer

why is what I want on the top shelf?

or perhaps better put, in a more imaginative wording

why are my wants out of reach?

     is the answer in the striving

or the clerk who assists before I topple three glass bottles to the ground

     meaning I need to learn to ask for help

a combination, maybe

I strive to see the positive

yet often settle, taking nothing or the less desirable yet obtainable

leaving whatever I reached for

on the top shelf