Northern_Lights_2017

44 It is all too often that I Forget my strength, But upon remembrance, I am overwhelmed at the thought. The laborious act of building a home Within oneself, A self that has been held hostage And desecrated endlessly Through its earliest years. When I stole this self back, I took it first to fresh air, The fleshy shell that had once Been scraped clean Of its abundant good. It took time, But that same stolen good grew back to me. My hollow gut opened up to the sun And turned bulbs and seeds Into blushing roses and only the brightest of California poppies. California Poppies Crystal Terhune Coffee drip. Pot Full. 10 am— but there’s no sun. Pitter Patter. What is that? Open the window. Pitter Patter. The calm, earthy smell, Blocking out the light. Wrap yourself in my sweater, Take a deep breath. Do you think of me, When you wear it? The warmth of the sweater, The comfort of coffee, Oh how it would feel to be that cup, All steamy and warm. Or to be wrapped in that sweater. Or to be wrapped in you. Pitter Patter Pitter Patter. Coffee AJ Johnson