One more post for now. Seriously, I'll stop spamming. This is just a poem from a while back. It's not the most cheerful, because this year I haven't been the most cheerful, but I think it came out well.

Snow falls,
thick white flakes edged in lace
climbs high in soft piles, glowing and sparkling a rainbow
in the Christmas lights.
I used to dance on a stage here--cold, alone on an ice pedestal, burning bright
I could walk, run, fly forever in the soft navy sky
but I don't feel it anymore
is it me? Is that really me?
Numb lips stumble over words.
When I see it again, longing swells within every part of me
I want to go home, I want to go home.
I want to go home.
And then in the spring, in the summer, soft breezes will cradle faces as
sunlight brings the world back to life--
bright, lush petals in vibrant colors testing the air,
grass coming up radiantly green under an expanse of cornflower
The ever-present hum of a distant lawnmower, the sound of horses' hooves in a field
the shouting and laughter from children who will run and play, who rest on porch steps, sunning their delicate legs,
their mouths stained from popsicles and bottles of kool-aid.
And in time it will all turn to swirls of fire as the trees take on ruby, crimson, orange, gold hues,
as leaves drift down and leave branches as dark skeleton fingers reaching into the sky.
And then snow turns the world to magical sparkling
Angels' land again.
What time is it now? But--it doesn't really matter.
Ghosts of memories. I don't feel it. I don't feel it
anymore.
Oh, God, I want to go home, I want to go home.
Thick bitter tears fall as pearls in a black-and white photo.
I want to go home.
But I am home
Snow falls onto my fingers and burns my cheeks and nose. White lace world, angels' land--
God, please, I want to go home.
I want to go home.