whisper soft again, friend
describe cold smoke, warm mother
blue-glazed bowl of soup
another cat in the window
dusty fan-blown strands

ten whole days widen slits
where tiny words swallowed
or tap danced
or overly devoured
around wispy sunlight fingers

peeled painted eyelids open
spiraled dragon breath
rocks stacked with books
green moss lingered
two arms flung upward

toward you

10/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.