STILL

Last week’s poems were about What Love Looks Like. This weeks are under the umbrella of STILL

Even though
it’s February
Even though
it’s another year
Even though
I am not young
Even though
snow and snow
Even though
my son is 29
the word
is still.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

2 Comments

  1. At first it seems there are two “stills” – that which continues and that which does not move… still water, and still there is war. But of course they are the same. Still, there are two – the stillness we are glad for, and the stillness we deplore. Still I dream of a perfect world while still the world defies me…

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