Pulling Petals

Days pass by, and the petals

fly. In a glorious garden, life

slows down; I can now zero

in on sounds that have yet

to be heard. I look around.

I see vibrant colors and shapes.

Without thought, birds and bees

survey the land. Abundant motion

surrounds a restless soul. I see

trees dance above a strong ground.

Coexisting with each other, all forms

of life carry on with no concern.

Not asking to be born, I learn to ask

how to live a life without keeping

track of all that I lack. I ask flowers

what it feels like to be pulled, planted,

cut, watered, and given away. I pluck

a flower in the midst of April showers,

and I begin pulling petals. One by one,

under the justified sun, I start pulling

petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.

Asking questions that go unanswered.

After another question, the flower

was naked, missing its petals. Because

of my questioning, the flower’s beauty

is missing. I destroyed something due

to me not believing. I knew that my

doubt washed all the beauty out.

I lay the flower stem on the dirt,

and I realize my questions did

nothing but cause pain and hurt.

to the ones I miss

To the ones I miss, I hope
you get the gist. I still see
you in the mist. You are
in the shadows, inside my
mind. You are the time
that continues to tick.
You are the remedy that
heals the sick. I am fire
and you are the wick.
I am the tongue and you
the lick. You are the air
that I breathe: life I can’t
see. You are the breeze
that refuses to leave.
To the ones I miss, just
know that our love will
continue to grow. Now,
I feel more than I see
and I appreciate that
the ones I miss will
stay by my side still.

Memory Bank

Deep in my mind, memories get stored.
My brain is a steel trap that opens
and closes. It’s impossible not to
remember a burning fire and how
it came from an ember. My mind
is a bank that will never be blank.
Blank checks and recurring thoughts
do not need to be bought. My mind
does not idle. Boredom often rivals
constant brain activity. It’s on file.
Memories deposited take refuge
in the deep depths where thoughts
of life and death intersect. Accounts
of my life stay full as good moments
fill my soul. Overdraft fees bring me
to my knees and memories do as
they please. My memory bank fills
up like a cup that never spills.

Colors

Life is not black and white.
There is much to be seen.
There are colors in between.
Nothing is that simple.
There are shapes, shades,
and colors surrounding us.
There are colors in you
and me. There are blue
skies, green eyes, gray
gooses, black nights,
white lies, yellow sunflowers,
clear tears, red lobsters,
green monsters, red sunburns,
gray skies, silver bullets,
brown dirt, hot pink shirts,
brown bears, purple carpets,
Ivory stairs, golden years.
There is so much color
that gets painted onto
this blank canvas of life.
You can see so much more
if you just open your eyes.

Infinite Scroll

Way back when, people
wrote scrolls. Now, all people
do is scroll endlessly. Thumbs
up took on a new meaning.
Refresh. Refresh. Nothing fresh.
Keep scrolling with no control.
Prisoner to statuses and updates.
People are captive to pictures
and words posted. Infinite scrolling
as blood is boiling. Much has
changed. Life is not as simple
as it was. Now, we look for that
buzz from our phones tingling
our bones. It’s hard to find a home
when we’re stuck on our phones.