Poetry Passes The Time Quite Nicely

I am nearly twenty,
not yet an old crow, but rather,
the ripening fruit in which it pecks.
Yet, fruit decays sitting idly in place
never bothering a soul.

So, here I wait
for an eager hand to pluck me from the 
sheath of fleeting adolescence 
or for the turbulence of tragedy
to steadily shake me loose
from where I hang
so comfortably still.



  1. Wait, did you write this? It's really great, and so is that photo!

    1. Yes! I wrote this the other day between classes. The first bit of poetry Ive written in awhile so I felt inclined to share! Thanks so much for your comment!

  2. i just found your blog & its lovely.


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