Nighttime Dreaming

lingering scent of chamomile
washing over everything, a gentle wave
goodbye

a sip of tea
warming the mouth,
the soul

rocking of the chair
back and forth, back and forth
again

shooting stars up above
a careful wish, a quiet
plea

to who-knows-what,
for who-knows-what, but
a wish nonetheless.

 
A

Abriatis

NY

YWP Alumni

More by Abriatis

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    i am me.

    it's 12am on nine-eleven-twenty-twenty.
    my name is rowan, and i am eighteen.
    i have struggled. i have cried. i did not think i'd make it this far.
    i did not think i'd do half the things i have.

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  • Poetry

    By Abriatis

    nine-eleven

    to think that i will be a legal adult tomorrow.
    i could vote. i could buy fish at petsmart.
    i could apply to places like aldi's and tractor supply.

    my birthday, for me, has always been tinged with sadness.

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  • Poetry

    By Abriatis

    placidity

    i watch the numbers tick up.
    i read the headlines.
    suny oneonta shuts down for the semester -
    six hundred cases.

    i go outside.
    i see the masks, worn properly or not.
    the spraying of hand sanitizer,

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