Tiny ripples in a pond, vibrating the lily pad homes of frogs. Dense moss, moist from the constant rainfall that captivates the area I inhabit.
Exchange of secrets, tucked beneath warm covers on a night different that others. A white candle, in a red jar, illuminates the distance between us. It glows til we come together.
Everyone’s mouth is closed. The table is set for 4, only 3 are seated. Painted eggs and tulips decorate the table. Lights are off but but sun brightens the room. Fathers eyes are on the son. Mothers eyes are on the front door.
“The Weight of Nothing” by Amy Uyematsu
The zoom of cars crash down on the street outside
but silently you sit,
engulfed in the nothingness surrounding you.
You fall into trances often and
can’t shake the places you go upon entering,
even in your dreams.
Time left awhile ago
but it’s hard to say when exactly.
A stones vibrations contribute to the stir
in the universe. A tear always
finds its way home.
Thirst for water like tree’s,
ever present in the now.