Few of my million daily thoughts, stories, and poems survive the battles in my head and make it to this blog.
Help me give them a louder voice.
(All poems are written by me, you can call me Zee)
There sits a child talking to a tree
About the long day and how things turned out to be
…And as I talked to her-the tree
She humbly smiled and replied to me:
-“This green was of concrete, paved so harshly to stop my growth.
Little I was, hungry for the sun at birth.”
She leaned down as she whispered to me.
Then I thought about my broken nail, my missing shoe, the lost signal, the text I couldn’t send you
Things that ruined my day
They were not concrete in my way!
So I dust off my skirt, with one shoe on
I go back inside my comfortable home
Thankful for how things turned out to be
See sometimes when you’re upset, all you need is a talking tree!
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee