Small

They mocked her puny,

a stick of macaroni —

Patience, mustard seed.

Your Time Will Come

They looked at the sky,
moon thrusting the clouds aside —
it was time to howl.

When Truth Hits

Dark clouds had gathered.

She walked up to him, grim

“Hey. We need to talk.”

One of Those Days

Tossed the stone to him,

and he caught it with his head.

Playful, turned fateful.

Learning

She inhaled the words —

the oxygen for a mind,

clogged in poverty