Secrets are rarely as heavy as
the weight we assign to them.
The gravity of circumspect
plays out, time and again. It is
what we carry as we decide
what crosses, or is held within,
our moral divide.
Sit with it for a while, moved
only when memory comes into
play; last night, or the other, or
any other day.
09/05/2024 j.g.l.
When you are not ready to say
all you need to say, you remain
unable to feel all you are
meant to feel.
Joy, relief, compassion,
beliefs, unobtainable all in the
truest sense. Your solitude, like
a sin, stays locked inside.
Unbidden, personal inquisition
only you can reply to, abiding
precious time.
09/03/2024 j.g.l.
Treat others
as you would
treat yourself.
Share when you can.
Kindness has no season,
but is best served
with appreciation.
Gratitude does not
need a reason, but
the taste will last
a very long time.
Be thankful.
09/02/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
by Carrie Hura
It’s the warm light pouring onto the lawn from a lightly curtained window
The sky just turning azure
Crescent moon hanging low but rising
A few bright stars sparkling even higher
As crickets chirp their last autumn sounds
The people inside are comfortable
moving about
Their evening routine
Thinking of nothing outside that window
The neighbors all doing the same
Down that block of Ford built bungalows
Some darkened windows
Not even home
Some out back, smoking in the open garage…a moment’s silent peace
Even the teenager in his first car coming home
music rocking
All in their safe space
Carrie Hura lives in the metro Detroit area.
I’m like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.