Pthalo

I am moss

I am fresh faced and new,

I am a spectrum of life, in the late morning dew,

I bask in the sun and drink in its light

I am at home with the moon on a cool summer night

I am forever searching for my resting place

And wherever I go I leave behind a trace

When the alarm clock goes off or the loudspeaker rings,

I come back to the real world on melted wax wings,

I struggle to process the words spilled between teeth

And fight to stay calm as I try to breach,

Through the crowds and the voices all rising in tune,

And I imagine myself at home with the moon.

I take a deep breath as I fiddle and squirm,

I study the people so I can mirror and learn,

How to be a real person, or at least how to pass,

Until I can get home to the forest at last.

I am moss,

Inexperienced, quiet and soft

And when I feel overwhelmed or get lost,

I think about the forest floor loam,

And I tell myself someday I’ll be home.