From Inside

I’ve not aged well since the last time.

I’ve gone grey.

Maybe it’s the way the air has become

thicker like syrup,

birds are behaving chaotically,

and I haven’t touched a fern in months.

I think my feet have become swallowed up

inside another set of feet

and my eyes have begun to recoil

from the harsh light of a new decade.

I’m a little tired.

 

There are moments when I remember

‘delight’… a bite, a laugh, something soft.

But the scenes fade in and out

and I’m not sure what’s real.

I hope you don’t mind the grey.

 

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