Here to share my voice. I write about the overstated and underappreciated. Also, I love cats.
Time owns a mansion, and gets ALL the attention. Wish I could be her…
By Abby Kay Mendonca3 years ago in Poets
”Hey, we got a call!” “Really? What time is it now?” “You don’t want to know.” *Contrary to the tone of this article, I’m not a salty EMT.
More than my own life, I am jealous of the time I will never have.
8:03 is NOT 8:04. The difference? You: Earth-side, no more.
Fire: Lava hardened streets fell victim to the wrath of Lord Vesuvius. Air: Formerly His gift, He turned air, with each breath -in-
last winter we picked oranges together, but we rotted like them
I cough at peppers, blackening over blue flames, mom lowers the heat.
Plastic exam gloves: disposable, cheap, man-made. Cost without? Man’s life.
My mom used to say, “Wear blue to job interviews.” My job now: miss her.
Swam in your blue eyes and floated for a while, but you blinked and I drowned.
The river’s sharp edge blue as a fallen feather shines in winter ice.
Delphinium tucked, into my wedding bouquet, is my something blue.
