My absence has been abundantly away
from the pen and pad.
The last real me time, when was that?
Lost moments and the time away
was like a dream I've never had
and glad it's over.
It's time to dip back in with freshly washed fingers
-and my hands are clean.
There is much that I have yet to whisper
to the book of patience and divine opportunity.
I'm here for the stories and hear
the cracking tiles from other sides
of the pages that have yet to fully turn.
Glance them, I do, prematurely.
My eagerness approaches with hopes
to intertwine immediately in case
of trouble rising like steam.
Yet here we are in this moment
of empty lines disappearing before my eyes
with very little shared.
Sorry, but this collection is mine.
So, try as you may to see through me
but my transparency remains
translucent for now
until I no longer feel like opaque
chipped away paint,
forging keeping my feces contained
in a dainty box
in a cool and dry place.
~Tina Meeks
