I’ll pick up lattes from that place on 49th you like.
Some Cheese Danish, your favorite.
And stop at the newsstand for the latest rags.
We won’t talk. Promise.
Talk is overrated. Especially now.
Try not to think at all.
Just be.
We’ll entrust time
to do what nothing else will.
What nothing else can.
To bring us back to life,
One moment,
one shallow breath
at a time.
Makeshift
- Topics: depression, love, poetry, social
- No Comments
Tricia McCallum
Share Story
Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on pinterest
Share on print
Share on email
Writer and Poet
Tricia McCallum
Always be a poet. Even in prose.
— Charles Baudelaire.
In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]
Amazon Profile
Recent Tweets
New Book
Books on Goodreads
Nothing Gold Can Stay: A Mother
and Father Remembered.
reviews: 2
ratings: 4 (avg rating 5.00)
Recent Posts
No comment yet, add your voice below!