melissaahowells
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the middle of the night is the place I often go alone with my thoughts poking me if I poke them back it will be a long night so I let them slide aways as an egg slips from Teflon or drift along as if they were the fluff of calibrating cumulus clouds I wait patient and impatient breathing in and out letting my thoughts dissipate still they gather around me clinging like fog I count the more pleasant thoughts silently willing them into my head enumerating colors and small details of all the beautiful vintage clothes I used to wear so long ago and how dressing that way transformed me from the inside sighing I'm suddenly satisfied I feel settled in somehow differently from the moment before knowing how back then I made a better show sometimes when strangers looked at me when I wore something odd or interesting they were unable to look that close or care in anything but banal curiosity I was transformed into a topic for awhile maybe even a pleasant oddity and then like the rushing wind a small bird on the wing I moved from their minds to somewhere else fluttering maybe winging up into effortless cumulus clouds then waiting to dissipate into the thinness of time eventually falling down with the deafening silence of the rain. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE I THINK WITH THIS I WILL RETURN TO SLEEP 3:39aM pst 8/1/2019 TIME DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT WORLD Vote for this poem |
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