My spot
My spot is an empty patch of dirt -
a hidden gem right by the creek,
Close to the subway.
Nobody can see me, but the
people kayaking near by.
The sound of the breeze and the
rhythmic subway noise,
make me feel like time can pause
just for a bit.
It’s not the most beautiful place,
but it’s the closest escape I have.
If I can close my eyes and just
hear the quiet noises -
I could be anywhere else.
As I was walking to my spot,
I noticed the path was more
narrow than before.
The grass extending way taller
than my head.
Earlier this spring when I found this spot, it didn’t look nearly as lush as this.
All the things that symbolise the time that has past me by.
The air is cooler too as fall lurks
around the corner.
So much time has passed since I have seen you and for some reason my mind cannot catch up with what is ever so present around me.
I stay still in my spot,
As the water flows and grass grows around me, following it’s rhythmic cycles of life and rebirth.
Yet I feel so resistant to the change.
I wish I could be you, able to move on and just forget me so easily.
I wonder why you wanted to even keep me around in the first place at all.
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