I was flipping through a notebook, going for an empty page to scribble down a birthday poem and paused to read previous scribbles.
Here they are. Only a few were dated, none are complete…
On a day when the pain is too much
And the promise of sun and Spring is broken,
When the chill in the air is the chill in your brain
And you find yourself wearing the dress with the stain.
They mostly seem to be bits and pieces of poems. I write poems longhand, pen and paper. Here’s one that has an actual date..
A day like any other
Waken at an unseemly hour
For others, but not for me ~
Then there is an essay type thing which I think I turned into a blog post. And if it is the post I think it is, no one understood what I was talking about anyway, so ~
Aha- I found a poem from 5/4/15 that I actually did post – you can find it HERE.
And then there is the “work” page for Lin’s Christmas poem, y’all remember that one I know.
And then, oh my goodness – and unfinished scrap that was probably written around this time of the year, and given the previous dated pages, probably in 2015…