Halfway through the dayI was neither half asleepNor half awake Fragments of midnightFloated in my half-empty coffeeWhen the midday sunBisected the middleOf my imaginary worldAnd fractured my hourglass.Then, the misplaced sands of timeFiltered through my half-empty handThat was half fullOf dreams and rhymes Mid-afternoon, I was meanderingBelow the half moon’sWhite silhouetteAnd wondering“Were the long shadowsthat ...

The wind speaks to me as my hair dances free, rooting for me to flee toward what makes me glow. The subtle whispers blow, sending shivers as they flow down to my tender spine, awakening the inner spark I had left behind in time, now reclaiming what is mine where my mind and soul align. ...

I can tell you the color of the night.I can describe the mystery of the owl’s cry.I’ve counted the stars up to hundreds.I’ve felt the chilly night air through the dawn.  Yet, through the dimness of night,Pearly, ebony eyes stare back at me –With the curious alertness of a newborn.My lullaby is matched with the ...

I’m leavingThrough that porthole in the cloudsAnd flying away from the maddening crowd I’m avoidingThose tiresome tyrants, Who cover up new blood stains,And drown our Sunflowers with their hard rain I’m leavingThrough that mystical vortexWhere I see weary blackbirds leaving our dirty townAnd fly toward this world’s golden crown I’m travelingBeyond the sky’s tunnel of ...

In a moment of stillness, while the world is asleep— no sound, no rush, no stress— I linger in my quiet thoughts as I wait for the birds to sing, their melody igniting hope amidst the sun’s soft glow. Editor: Shannon Hensley  

Here I am, staring into space;Taking in every second and minute.There’s that woody smell of books sitting gracefully on old shelves. From the corner of my eye,I see the smiles that split familiar faces. I hear a melody in the voices that once dictated lessons to me.I feel the joy of reuniting with figures who’ve remained ...

It’s the simple things, like the scent of a crayon, that take me back to what I used to know– the mourning dove’s echoing in my bedroom, the sun’s rays shining through my curtains as I wake to the scent of freshly cut grass. It’s the simple things, like the scent of a barbecue, that ...

The wailing sound of life’s first cry;The synchronized rhythm of a first heartbeat;The soothing touch of innocence against my skin;Births a new purpose for my existence. Editor: Erynn Crittenden

Oh, my waning moon.Where are you?I cannot hear you.My eyes are open,I cannot see you Oh, my waning moon.Where have you gone?I cannot find you.My heart is emptyWithout you. Oh, my waning moon.My hands are numb.Are you up there?Can I reach outAnd touch you? Oh, my waning moon.Why did you go so soon?My heart is ...

There’s something revitalizing about the spring breeze taking me in—the flowers bloom with the green leaves, blending to release the fresh scent that puts me at ease. After winter’s long grasp, the sun’s warmth heals my spirit that’s been tucked and buried, awaiting spring’s visit. Editor: Shannon Hensley