Grass. How under-appreciated is grass? It's so... green. Alive. Not to mention it smells great. It may not be a sunrise over the ocean, but it's there. It's what we have. It's easy to love, and even easier to forget.
Blank paper. Oh god. Blank paper is one of the best things, ever. It has so many possibilities. It's so clean. And it just... looks warm. Inviting. But, we must tarnish it with lead and graphite. Why? Isn't it good the way it is?
Lone leaves. Where did they come from? Well, a tree obviously, but which one? If I had the time I'd pick up a single leaf and try to find the exact place it fell from. Just to give it back. To place it back in its home the wind-or human hands- so cruelly tore it from.
Those weird little sticks that are thin and fragile but you can still see that it hasn't been broken. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Sure, it'll eventually rot into the earth, but it wouldn't be broken. It'd be rotten, decomposed, recycled, whatever the fuck you want to call it. But not broken.
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Poems and Those Kinds of Things
PoetryPoems and shit mostly by me That's right motherfuckers
