I srike the match
only to find the flame
I walk through the spider web
only to break it's ever so delicate frame
I acknowledge the mocking bird
I consume all the cookies
leaving not another batch
I stumble through a dark house
with not another voice to be heard
I type that poem, only because I haven't written a poem in a while.
It estranges me:
The clouds that roll in because it's that time of year,
or how the mocking birds come around because it's the season for them to,
or how the sun rises and sets because that's just how it is,
the lizards come out and bask in the sunlight,
spiderwebs and ants make their way towards the house,
grass fades from green to yellow,
the ocean heats like the land,
clothing stores come out with their new summer lines,
flights coming in or flights coming out are seen more,
binoculars and flip flops paired with goofy hats and sunglasses,
people come home...
it's just a matter of time,
but i seem to be realizing it just now.
things are changing.
and it's weird.
change is always.
and i hate it sometimes,
or maybe i'm just to selfish.
i think i am.