Birds singing. Swift’s soaring above me. Pale golden sunlight! I tilt my head to the sky and smile. The meadow grass gently brushed my knees, as bees and other critters fly around me. Peaceful in this meadow with bright sunlight. I opened my eyes and scowl. “I want…poppies!” Poppies bright as red apples, appear in the field. Their delicate petals fluttering in an invisible wind. This is how I remember summer. The feeling of lightness. Calmness and contentment. Everything in summer is bright and colourful. But the best part? The evening. I sit on the crest of a Holl, knees pulled to me as the sky fractures into pale pinks, blues and oranges. White fluffy clouds dotting the sunset. I miss the sunsets and watching them endlessly, before painting them. I miss my home.

It was like a gust of wind, Not a gale force, But a small gust,

The weight lifted from my shoulders, A sense of peace settling over me, I was getting there.

I open my eyes, To a bright meadow, With wild flowers, Buzzing bees, Bright soft sun shine,

My skin gently warms, A small pulls my lips into a smile, I stand proud with arms out either side of me,

The pain, The trauma, The self loathing, Is still there but,

I am getting there. It comes as revelation, Freedom,

I am getting there.

It came to me like snails come to gardens: ready to consume, Ooze with slime,

At first, I didn’t notice, But then slowly over time, Clothes became to big, Hip bones stuck out,

But it was my eyes, The dead look, No life in them, It was like I was without a soul,

Trauma is slow, At least for me,

Trauma consumes everything you are, Ripping and tearing, Chewing and munching on body, mind and soul,

Once upon a time, I let trauma consume me whole, Allowed him to win,

But I won’t be plant that allows snails to consume me, Not anymore,

I will be the fall foxglove, Towering over plants, Bright flowers and poisonous to eat, Or poisonous to hurt,

I will never, Let anyone or anything consume me whole again.

One long night, With wind howling, And frost tapping window panes,

We stayed laying on the bed, Staring into each others eyes, With a fire crackling in the fireplace,

I smiled a little, When your fingers grazed my face, Or stroked my hair,

One long night, In the cover of darkness, And oppressive trees, With wind nipping at the doors,

I close my eyes, Letting your fingers trail across my cheek,

I open my eyes, Once again you are gone, Nothing but a memory and dream,

I am not young like I was then, I am frail, With withered lines on my face,

But the thought of you, How soon I will see you again,

Makes me smile.

Peacefulness and blissful ness, That is what a library is. Calmness.

You never feel alone in a library. Out of place. A misfit. You are simply just there.

Books, Pages, Ink, Words, All there to comfort you,

It makes you wonder, When you hold a book, Who held the book within your grasp, Did they laugh and cry? Or did they simply just put it back on the shelf?

Books may have the written stories, But they also carry the imprint of memories.

She was everything, Archer wanted. Kind. Compassionate. Every sense was open to her but, his heart as well. She turned to him with a smile. Her eyes crinkled as she beckons him over. He can’t help but smile to her. The small creature in front of him- he loved. It was just nerving seeing her aura and all the colours she had when in a particular mood. He never knew he had this ability! But here he was, seeing the colour of love. A grin went across his mouth. He didn’t care then if everything failed. To see her smile was the best thing. So he shoved down his sense of auras and sat next over.

Pride, Flags bellowing in the air, People together as one,

The sound of the marching, Music to my soul and heart, Another flag roses,

I cannot stop the grin from exploding across my lips, I am finally home, Finally with people who do not judge me,

So I lift my flag up, And grin proudly to the world.

Night is when people come alive, Streets of cities full of theatre goers, Night clubs, Pounding music, Crippling heels and bushes chatters,

But night holds secrets, That is why people are worried but also love it, Night is when the day is at bay, When duties are gone,

Night is when ambition shines, When carelessness roars to life,

Night is when all troubles are gone, Alcohol drowns the mind in a numbing Blanket,

But night is also when predators roam, Searching for the next meal, Like a vampire sucking blood from its victim,

Night is when all is possible, Night is when you be someone dark and twisted, Night covers all,

Night is a blanket for good and evil. Night is a scapegoat for the evil doers, Night is a refuge for the good doers, Night is just night.

What do I see when I look to the future? Is it bright? Or is dark and clouded in inky black waves?

There was a time, When I couldn’t see me living past eighteen, That I had no future or dreams,

What he did, Ripped a whole in the fabric of me,

But now, I see myself in ten years dancing and having fun, Maybe married, No kids,

A nice house and a lot of cats, A husband or wife who likes me for me,

But mostly, I see me moving on my trauma, I got to where I wanted to be,

In ten years time, I hope I have healed enough,

In ten years time, I hope I am still acting and doing Eveything I love,

I can see myself being here in ten years time. And it is glorious

I sit in the cold cafe, Fingers wrapped a mug of spiced coffee,

I see a sea of strangers, Stretched before me, All talking and bent close to each other, What secrets do they have?

Is one a thief? Is one a murderer? Who sits next to me at the round table? Does he have a dirty and ask sordid secret?

I put my head down, Trying to not analyse, I can hear the ringing starting in my ears,

The thump of my heart, The noise rising to a crescendo and symphony of white noise,

I felt my chest tighten and grip the mug harder, My heart thinks louder in my chest, I can’t hear past the white noise, Or feel past the suffocation,

Then a hand is on the table, Palm on the surface, Scarred and with neat nails.

A cup follows then he sits, I look at him as he smiles, “Hello.” He says in a chocolate velvet voice,

The white noise disappears as I stare into his eyes and smile, “Hello.” I reply.

I sometimes forget, How easy it is to say hello to a stranger.