Little Moments
(Published in Literary Arts: To the End, Through the Tunnel; Performed at 2022 Portland Book Festival)
I believe in running into the ocean and shaking your hands from the cold.
Standing on the beach as the wind pulls your hair
Grinning as you sit on the sand watching the waves crack shells against the shore.
I believe in dancing in the rain until your socks get soaked,
Lying under street lights in the middle of the road,
Thunderstorms and listening as they greet you through the roof,
The sound and smell of a fresh sheet of snow
when the world's sound proof.
Take photos of madness so you don't forget
Grin when you watch your friends grin
Laughing so hard your stomach ties in knots,
Jokes that aren't funny,
Ones that make no sense.
I believe in moss covered benches scratched with love,
and painting on the floor of your bedroom leaning against the door.
Clothes that are so worn they’ve molded to your skin,
Change
Second chances
Never 3rds.
Nostalgia
Spontaneity
Words can be knives
Empty highways and late night drives,
Taking a breath
So you don’t drown,
Enjoying the little moments found.
And the clicking sound of hurried thoughts,
At 1:09
Before it’s lost
In an attempt to make a difference
Before the light.