Scribbled Thoughts

A day to celebrate

and acknowledge a unit,

and a day I feel

the most alone

in a while,

trapped in magnified hints

that probably mean nothing

but cut deep

and press doubt

against contentment.

Barnacles and Bernard

the shop’s guardian dragon,

both regular sights

in a place that

smells like fresh salt

and whose sands

soothe your feet

to smoothness.

Drink in the last day,

breathe the moments

of freedom

and dream of returning

and experiencing it

all again.

Coastal path

to view the edge

of everything,

contemplate the end

of your world

and reflect on

what has been

worth it,

what you should

have dropped

over the side.

Pack away the luxuries

with a full-day left to enjoy

feels like a slap in the face,

a shout of denial,

a statement that happiness is over.

Maybe we’ll experience it again

in the future.

Fallen leaves

merged with the dirt

wet from the nearby stream

it constantly

squishes them deeper,

joining the stones

to form the foundations

of the earth.

Shock of the stepping stones,

no solid path to follow.

Stumble in the water

to reach your goal

or give up

and only view from

a distance,

to forever wonder

what it is

others saw.

Tie a ribbon of memory

in a glen hidden,

it will preserve

all I have of you.

It will make you

live again.

I am the guardian of the Glen

(of five minutes)

all who wish to pass

must pay with strokes

and head rubs.

Yes, yes like that

(pant, pant).

Okay, next.

Hidden Glen

nestled in the forest

embraced in protection

so nature can reign,

but humans can visit

and respect

the peace

and complete

state of being

finding this land brings.

A tree trunk seat

pierced with pennies,

so old they’ve begun

to meld into the wood.

Because no one

carries cash anymore

and so the throne

will remain

incomplete.