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If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since January 2020
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A Familiar Feeling

January 30, 2020

My red hands, bitten by the wind

Grip on to my blue Mongoose blue

It's a little too big for me, but I love it anyway

The royal blue shines against the sidewalk

 

I begin my descent

Down, down, racing by house after house

The hill gently sloping down

My favorite street.

 

It's late September,

Too warm to call it autumn

But by sunset the chill creeps out,

Sinking into my bones.

 

It's not far now,

around the bend

past the willow

and across the bridge

 

The wind whips my hair every which way

A feeling rises in my chest;

Familiarity, nostalgia, happiness,

Home.

 

 

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