To Be

Alone on a summers afternoon
the wind begs me to join it,
promising to return me.
It winks to the sun as I contemplate flight.
My caustic friend creeps up once more to act
as a shield.
Armed with a false strength,
I refuse.
The wind turns its back and leaves me.
To sit and know
how it was supposed to be.
Left only with the familiar comparisons that go
hand in hand with a tiring eternal hope.
My heroin hides in words flattened by ink.
She sits confidently in Hindsight,
showing and knowing
how it was supposed to be.


Todays best new poem was written by Samantha Poppy Hill.


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