What am I
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As I lay
Full of dismay
I drift far away
I hear my thoughts say
The dark was more enticing
Than the day
Held between fingers
On this forsaken bleached sand,
To skin or paper
Your markings will not desist.
For you fulfill me,
And allow my expressions
To flow freely from your tip.
I am lazy
Says the critic in me
I'm too hard on myself
Replies my kinder side
Maybe I can work harder?
My inner optimist chimes in
But what's the point?
Asks my depression
At noon on a Summer's day,
What am I?
I am an oak leaf,
A casual observer
Watching the world around me
Enjoying the sights and sounds
Strong and Compassionate
Never hurting another.
