EvieC

It stung like a bee waiting to leave this earth.
It rose up like the sun.
It waited while the waves passed.
It wept out loud to the crowd.
It jumped high into the air.
It left behind all that cared.

The old worn down pictures in that small camera,
Those old memories that were lost with time.
That flask of hope gnawing on the lens.
Those pictures kept away from reality,
For no one else to see-

Those writings that I do become like a therapy.

Each word written, each sentence made,

and even after that, it’s still not the same-

Time and time again of the worry someone will see those little writings.