Once alive [a poetic]

I was alive before I met you. The sun rose every day, Bringing light under crevices, chasing Shadows into corners; The wind pulled my hair like A teasing child, and The moon sang her orange solo, Awaiting the sound of the wolf’s. I wrote sometimes, cooked a bit And smuggled sleep out of my pillow…

what the moon wrote [a poetic]

You drag your feet assuredly forward Stiff back and peeping eyes casually checking corners For view of another set of eyes. Constant audience you crave, New prey to your ideas, So you welcome the world to the foot of your door (though they aren’t enough) And hold them at arms length that you may relish…