Writer’s Sabbatical

At first, it felt like… a pause.
A temporary setting down.
A favorite mug waiting in the unran dishwasher.

Then, it felt like… a lost set of keys.
Something I’d put down in a rush
Without a plan for where I’d pick it up again.

Now, it feels like an old apartment address.
Somewhere I could get to if I tried.
Somewhere distantly familiar but no longer home.

And I worry that someday it might feel like a page out of a photo album.
A journey once taken, now a remember when.

Multiverse

silhouette.jpg

Feminist and baby-girl;

Pink skirts and blonde curls.

Independent rock chick;

Leather, liner, lyrics.

Boss Bitch or wannabe;

obsessive compulsive

or just plain lazy.

Of the world’s oddities, a historian

Steampunk and back again.

Bookworm and word nerd, Continue reading