twenty-three

twenty-three

and I’m not where I thought I’d be

thought I’d have a fancy career

my pathway there’d be perfectly clear

thought I’d be wearing power suits

classy jewelry and expensive boots

something with a lot of flair

and perfectly-styled, unfrizzy hair

was sure there’d be a house and more

was sure I’d have a garage with two doors

but I just have a regular job

and I gotta admit, I’m still a slob

I still wear converse and my flannels

still go to the store in my pajamas

never been able to tame my hair

but if I’m honest, I really don’t care

’cause when I look around and see

everything that surrounds me

I realize I have all I need

and it has nothing to do with any things

but everything to do with we

you and they and she and he

how lucky am I, without want or need

for it’s people that make my life complete

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Ode to the bookstore: a poem

There’s something special about a book

And when you find that perfect nook

In the corner of the store

Where you sit and read right on the floor

The smooth, warm texture of the pages

Only gets sweeter through the ages

The musty old smell of a used book store

Is what brings me back for more and more

There’s nothing quite like the delight

Of finding that book that feels just right

With every turn of a page there are more

New and exciting adventures in store