Poem

 

I took yesterday off

from poetry, wrote six

thousand words of prose

instead. 


Old me would think

I'd be proud, electric

with enthusiasm at being

so many steps closer


to the end. But me?

I am grieving. I am 

sleepless. I am 

winded.


Writing is expensive

no matter what 

folks would rather

believe.

Coffee Button

Send Sarah Emma Ruth $5 for coffee via Venmo

Popular Posts from this Blog

Timely

Delightful the Pug

Field Notes

Make Believe

Journey Back To High Camp

Let's Connect on Instagram