Apricity

I should think myself fortunate that my penmanship is not defined by some theme such as melancholy, or rage, or hopelessness. If there is one thing I am certain of, it is that I use sweet words far too often to be a woman of pain or great sorrow, and I do hope my poems convey that. If writing is a window into a poet’s mind and soul, I hope my window is candlelit: warmth spilling across the floor, colouring the walls liquid amber, clearing the shadows from even the most cobwebbed corners of my thoughts; joyful and soft and seraphic and authentic and always open to the midmorning sun, no matter what it brings to light. You should know, the blinds to my mind are never drawn, and the apricity of my thoughts will always be shared. Please, stay a while. Do me the kind favour of lingering.