Day Fifteen: Doubles



I see you standing there,
knees bent, hands clenched,
muscles strained, breathing hard.
You are focused,
You have your side of the court;
I have mine.
We both wait, tensed, at the base line,
only feet away from each other.
Your gaze is directed at the net; mine is too.
Our opponents stand at the other side,
They’re ready.
I squeeze the ball tighter in my hand,
flicker my eyes to the left where you stand.
You nod.
I bend forward, press the ball against the racket strings, position my feet, then swiftly pull the racket back.
It twirls in my right hand, behind my back, expertly
as I toss the ball up from my left.
I bring the racket down with force
and it meets the ball.
The ball zips over the court in a blur of movement.
You snap up straight, alert, eyes trained on it.
My opponent swings, and the ball returns to your side.
You, my doubles partner, fly to it.
The game has begun.


Day Fourteen: Sunk


The unwavering silence
is deafening to my ears.
Fins and scales of creatures unheard of
brush against my skin.
Obscured darkness is all my eyes can see, open or closed.
Nevertheless, the saltwater creeps past my eyelids and sets my face on fire,
but I could care less
because have sunk to the bottom of these murky depths.

And no one can find me here.

(Yes, I know. I am crazy behind!)

Day Thirteen: Creature of Honor

Creature of Honor

You care for your young,
and you live in a pack.
You believe in justice.
You believe in honor.

You choose your battles carefully.
You move silently, but swiftly.
You are a night prowler and a night howler,
and your voice swells and echoes through the air.

You will be heard, not seen, yet seen, not heard.
You will be respected, not rejected.
You will be wise, not foolish.
You are a wolf, a creature of honor.

You love, you care; it is your nature.
But you will fight to defend your pack to the last breath.

Day Eleven: Ode to the Best Time-Waster

Ode to the Best Time-Waster

Dear Pinterest,
thank you for giving me something to waste my time with.
For without you,
maybe being “bored” would be possible.

Dear Pinterest,
thank you for the random inspiration when Writing Block hits hard.
I see my characters in my head, every distinct detail
but sometimes I need a base.

Dear Pinterest,
thank you for the relatable/hilarious/peculiar memes I love so much.
It’s a good but scary feeling to know I’m not alone
in this crazy fandom universe.

Dear Pinterest,
thank you for the being the best time-waster yet worthwhile social media website out there.
Without you,
who knows how I’d get all my clever writing quotes.


I’d rather be Pinteresting.