Andi Leigh Writes

It's too early in the day To tell if it was good. And my senses are firing A million tall tales, Speaking of How the day must be Forgotten. But nothing has happened And it's still too early To know.

Juniper dawn, Softness treading Sleepy sensibilities. Awaken into Mango groves. The heat lays Healing hands. Not alone in the Slightest. Blackberry sky Sweeping through. Colors constant And love lasts Forever.

Does your stomach ever churn At a certain time of day? Maybe it's a hint to stay home, Hidden under the covers. The universe will keep you company And protect you from horrors outside. But sometimes we can't stay curled up And we must face our demons And possibly the demons of others. Then at the end of a never-ending day, Comfort awaits us, Ready to hear our stories.

There's a dandelion in my palm. It's speaking healing words And telling me the wishes of others. Oh how I wish to make them all Come true. But it's not up to me, I'm only There to listen to its songs. My wishes are just as ordinary And I'm waiting in line. Although, I do love to hear The whispers from the wish granter. Our time will come when florets fly.

Tomorrow is new Like young ideas. Unwritten and something To look back on, Hopefully with fondness. I pray it sticks And I'll share it with you.

My face runs hot when I'm spoken to, Not with blissful admiration but Because I burn with exhaustion. Empty words do not impress, They lull me to oblivion. Can I be gifted a lover of words, A weaver of hidden meaning. A conversation with layers and turns, A like-minded soul who's gleaming.

Glass nails break under Pressures of reality. Pain was never there.

I would love to sit for hours, Turning pages tattered by delight. Piecing together tapestries of lives That mean the most on aged paper, And in my own hungry mind. But tapestries must be woven In a mundane story of my own, And I try to set time aside To get lost in alluring prose.

The time is plastered On the wall, Yet minutes stand still. I stare, listening for The ticking. But it never comes. Seconds at parade rest, As hours seem to melt Down the drywall all the same. I am still here. At least I think I am. Have I forgotten to blink? Is it night or day? I have forgotten to eat again. Time plastered and concrete, But ever-changing when I catch a glance. Is this how it is every day?

I feel the dust On my fingertips. No one’s been here In a while. Chairs are empty, Tables full of food, Now hold rotten bread. Do you feel fed? Eyes can imagine What once was But now grime cakes Windowsills and Battered doors.

What do we do when the day is sweet, The sun shines and the air feels clean, But we remain trapped indoors. With hope for peace of mind, And adventures to be remembered by, Though it isn’t our reality. Our purpose served in ways we want to end. Let’s change as much as we can, And breathe deeply the love we share. I want to take your hand, Before winter sets in and brings folly. We don’t have to die just yet. We must live each brightened day. And even when the light is dim, Our happiness won’t shy or fade.

I carry stress around. It leans on me for nourishment, Day in and day out. It sings thunder in my ears and heart When I want to sleep, Of every little moment that Gave it strength whatever way. It angers me when I drop a glass in the sink, It calls me names. At least it wasn’t on the floor But it makes me cry. It’s wrapped around my neck And pokes me in the back. It laughs when my bones ache. I don’t know how to pry it from me. I breath deeply, in and out, But it squirms its way into place. It loves to thrive But I want it dead. It wants me dead, it lets me know. One day I hope I wake and it’s Not hugging me so tightly. Sometimes it leaves for a while And my hope for it to never return Reels it back.

There’s a darkness in the morning light. A reminder of cycles. When I open my eyes I see the same Old things that bleed imprisonment. I go to the same old places That beckon my time. I wish to break loops and hope For something different, And I may be able to change it all. But where do I even start? We should strike fires together. New lives without familiar walls. Not so much to change us completely, But to make us comfortable. I will reach my hand out. Let’s step forward together.

A frog hopped on the gravel path. I wondered where he would go. So small, I barely caught a glimpse, A friend no bigger than a pinecone. To home he went, that's what I thought, Before being caught in splashing rain. No worries in his life, unlike myself, A little life without much pain. Dewdrop drinks and autumn air, A grassy sweetness in the dark. Shelter under toadstool hearth, That's what sets us apart. But here I am thinking Of a cottagecore type of frog. One that sips on tea instead of Living in the bog. But that's what makes him happy, He has a nature of his own, And I long for living daydreams Where I'm as carefree as a toad.

When I sit awake at 3 a.m. Scrolling through petal-dropped Memories, I think of how I'll never Live them again. Pleasantries Sink under sands. There's an ache behind my smile. There's a longing that will Soothe like chamomile But burn the tongue just as fast. I miss those days and I know They'll never resurface In the marching present. Nothing lasts. Grateful for the heartache Because I know I lived and learned and made an impact. So maybe I can get some rest By 4 a.m. And care to discover future nostalgia In approaching daylight.

There's nothing you cannot do. For you are mountains stronger Than weak pebbles tossed From mocking words. And you owe the throwers nothing So you flash a smile that burns them. You are free like winds in moonlit pastures, Ready to knock back raging seas. A whirlwind force Disrupting their perception. And their minds will not open, So you let them be.