The dirty skirt that lies on the floor, Is sad you’re not wearing it anymore, In a crumpled heap, it lies, And softly it’s tears, it cries. From warp to weft it was the best, But now it is forced to take a rest, The waist has frayed, And sewing has been delayed.
This cold room with its four walls, Four walls that have housed me in safety Four walls which I have hated Four walls that I have loved. Who has seen me at my worst? Who has seen the tears and laughter and song? Only you and I.
This year I have gained so much unexpectedly, Some things were not wanted, Some things were gained at last, More freedom and less paranoia, There are more barriers to overcome, Most imagined and hard to deal with.
Doing Nano* is making my hands hurt as it always does, But I will make it through the other side, The other side of the pain, Where in the end I will have something to cherish, 50,000 words I battled through, Something that was created in the barren wasteland. *Nanowrimo
There was a plum tree at the top of a hill, It’s branches leant to one side, The wind pushed them there as they grew, I went there one hot day near the end of summer, Climbing that hill was something to do, Four days left of summer, four days left with you, Climbing that…