It’s the pair of arms I

rest in at the end of

each day; I let it hold me,

in its two letters,

I let it soothe me with

nothings in my ear,

nothings that could turn

into somethings if I let them.

It’s the spot of disturbed soil

where I planted my universe;

nothing’s grown yet,

but it might.


6 thoughts on “If

  1. Natalie,

    The writers I most love project a natural, unforced, not too “crafted” quality to their work. It is for me as a reader as though the words just came flowing through. The writing has a life, a simple, genuine quality.

    Your work has that feeling for me.

    You are proof that honesty and courage in writing knows no age.


Thoughts? I love those.

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