Flowers by the street - Austin, Texas

Outstanding

Face the world steady—

recognition will follow

who dare to stand out

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Morning, sunshine

I awake to the sound of my favourite music—to the rising tunes of a strumming guitar. I snooze. It’s ok, I tell myself, for I’d worked late the previous night. I deserve more sleep. Before I know it, the alarm goes off again, this time more annoying than soothing. Sighing, I get up only to lean on the wall, palms resting on my chin. It doesn’t seem like a good morning.

As I force myself to brush my teeth and crack my knuckles, I feel a little more awake than before. Clinging on to that feeling, I begin my workout routine and feel better with each stretch. Now it’s starting to seem like a better morning. There’s still a long way to go, though.

Finishing my routine, I make a pot of coffee and slump into the chair—it’s browsing time. I scroll, without a second thought, through feeds and stories, watching but not caring about the lives of my connections and friends. It’s just a way to pass time while drinking coffee—nothing more, nothing less. Drowning the last of my coffee, I head for a shower. I let the cold water wash over me, feeling the heat evaporating as steam over hot cocoa. Soon, I’m ready for work. I plug in random trance music, as I leave, to help cope with the terrible walk to work.

With the slight buzz in my head, I reach office in a piece. I’m ready, sleep-deprived but not yet drooping, to face the day. Perhaps it is a good morning, I tell myself. I wave to my friend at the security desk, take the stairs two at a time, and arrive at my desk with work in mind. I prop up my laptop and open up the word editor—to write today’s blog.

Blank.

A morning. Blocked.

Versatile

During sibling wars
a child’s bat it becomes

On icy cold days
a holder of hot beverages

On sleepless nights
a companion for open eyes

When confusion clouds
a comforter for sought minds

At a loss for gifts
a lifetime purpose it offers 

If a question strikes
a resounding resource it’s 

On them tired moments 
a beckoning pillow it makes

When challenged by techies
a living breathing thing it proves

So if you ask me why books
a truer friend there seldom is

Tunes

Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park, Chicago
The Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park, Chicago

Injecting passion

music, the tranquilliser

into broken souls

Vintage typewriter at the American Writers Museum in Chicago

Why she writes

A slice of her breast

upon the world to bestow

writer’s soul beckons


Image: Vintage typewriter at the American Writers Museum in Chicago