I was reading through one of my notebooks; I'm clearing out one of my bookshelves to clean/pack up my room. One of the notebooks was a flip open Moleskin. I was reading what I thought was a long poem, but then I noticed that I kept switching my handwriting. A memory occurred, and I remembered all three of us sitting in a car or bored somewhere over a summer vacation, and we're all writing different stanzas of a poem, switching verses as we pass the notebook among us. My little sister's writing is all blocky--the letters don't connect on the same exact level--they are staggering. My older sister only writes in cursive, the first letter of all her sentences is exaggerated and fancy. My writing is somewhere in between the both, cursivey but not following capitalization conventions.
Erisa
Elora
Elyse
Photosynthesis now stops
full of want;
of days with sun
Warm firesides are so lonely
away from the one I love
love is in my heart
all 'round but not close enough
hopefully not long
i wait. i shift. i move.
out to crumple dying leaves.
Slowly gentle soft snow falls
to the ground to melt on
dead leaves. Transient.
cars on the side of the road
highway's empty. no one's home
the lights of towns are far off
like the light of veins
that can't be seen
The lift of faith pulses thru
my bod unseen but felt
Feeling is faith in
the feel of sun's rays on skin
Feel of summer's come
long nights spent without light
but I believe in the sun's rise
Rising from the East
the sun brings light, life to all
Each and every day
Repetition
a curse, not a vision
It's in my sights, in
my skin, a burn that
revives the soul within.
The sun wakes the leaves on trees,
the bees, and human beings
human after all
through summer, winter, spring, fall
time goes by unchanged
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