A Letter To My Other Self
she sits and she waits
To be let in
Is she the winter
In the spring
She imagines you have left green leaves
That trickle and shine
Is she the better world
Some other life waiting to be lived? outside
You leave the window open on the journey in
The door to your home is ajar
Under grey skies
Is she the love you never had?
Roots clutching earth in the coldest climate
but she cannot tell you how to love or live
Or dream
There is no time
There is no place
she exists
and yet she is extinct
Measure her
take note of every form as if she were born in
shape in height
measure her well with your eyes
for in the morning she will have taken flight
out of the darkness into the light
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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