Updated: Apr 22
The eighteenth day of April brings forth another prompt: A Message Poem. I feel with the whole turned upside-down world we live in at the moment, a message is a good enough theme, so I shall do my best to write a good poem.
While the last breath brings forth another, I summon my will to spring my body forward into a dance of thoughts. The left and right I got just fine, but up and down, far and close they challenge me every time. With every thought, I jump closer to my past and I make sure to turn around just in time to see myself sitting at that desk of mine, oh how I miss it now. The past me is busy writing, a short message on a blank page.
I know the message is for me, but who am I to read it? What once I knew is all gone now, never to return. I stare at me, bent closer now, sealing the envelope with a simple lick to the right. It is for me, I dare say, but when I’ll find it I will be old, and crumbly, and one step closer to the ground.
The message that belongs to me was written by the past to be read in the future, but my what a mistake for the present me is clueless.
And this is me, bringing back the prose-poem, just because I missed it.
Hope you enjoyed it, and I shall see you tomorrow!