dear September,
you have hit me hard.
I'm not quite sure what I mean by that.
Perhaps I've been in a flurry of busyness and turning and finding and falling. You've hit me in the chest and all my breath has escaped from my grasp.
Time keeps going and going, and I feel like I am falling behind.
But, I find that it's okay.
I'm not upset, I'm not in a hurry, I'm not lost.
I'm in-between flying and being stuck on the ground.
I can touch the stars with my fingertips, but I cannot hold onto them. My feet brush against the red dirt upon the ground, but not quite buried in it.
Oh, September, how I finally understand you. You aren't quite in Autumn, you aren't quite in Spring. A little of both, I suppose. Pieces of both tucked into a coat pocket.
And we're both okay with it.
With love,
Candence
No comments:
Post a Comment