I see my friends' journeys from my screen
I put a heart on their photos, then think
a little of the could-have-beens,
the world out there, so many sights to see
and here I am at my desk, sleepy,
writing my poems, then telling them my woes.
in the world of fish and flying birds
I must be a barnacle stuck in driftwood
doesn't move, doesn't swim
water splashing over me and being towed
is my normalcy, and yet
somehow I flourish;
relieved, relishing,
that this is exactly where I should be.
