Alessandra G.

And I look at the world.
We are of our lives. To love, we
craft with our own. We grow among another
Wild and carefree.

And that in itself is enough.

It was quiet in the car ride. A waiting,
Calm captivation.
The kind that makes you feel music ease over you. And your eyes fall to the washings of leaves across the street.

House plant
Sugared and sweet.
You wept with a dour lilt to your leaves.
They fell to green, and green so grounded in the laden air.
What do they carry,

And what did you find in the week that I wasn’t there?
 

There’s a silver lining to every devastation, or rather, a transparent lining that masks the remains of the forests in our world today.

With kindled hands, I carried the moon.

Or a rock that looked like the moon. A pebble that held so much power
As striking seams do among the dank carpeted sky.