"Weary"
By Jayme Martin
Morning has come, bearing no surprises.
As usual, the hands of time are moving faster than I.
From a cloud of peacefulness, the transition begins.
With every ounce of my being, I lower my toes to meet the
surface underfoot.
As if it is an invisible trigger atop an imaginary stop watch.
The race has begun, ready or not.
Similar to that of a snail, the weight of the world sits on my back.
I trudge through my path with lead feet.
The light is blinding, harsh, and unwelcomed.
Thoughts flood in from every direction, causing a hazy fog
of confusion.
My eyes meet this familiar image returning the stare.
Yet at the same time is unrecognizable.
To whom stands before me?
The lost soul of who once was,
The scarred heart of who remains,
Or is it the sight of a daydreamer?
"I have always loved writing but seldom make time for it anymore. I was glad to see the email request for submission."
* * * * * * * * * *
A Haiku
By Kelly Haverkampf
dog hair tumbleweeds / rolling across the prairie / of my kitchen floor
"I am constantly amazed at how much hair one little dog can shed. And how, exactly, does it form into balls that end up in the corner?"
