Soft, the day’s fading light,
hushed, the manic pace –
my heart’s rhythm lulled
beats a nostalgic melody –
love’s memories bittersweet.

(Tuesdays, I post a poem from Twitter.  You can follow me @Vjknutson.  Image from personal collection.)

Smoking Pit

Cigarette butts
no longer linger
concrete, but
I swear the cloud
of smoke lingers,
the sweat of adolescent
anxiety – the suffocating
pressure to comply –

Names escape,
but I remember
smugness and
rivalry, and
the spine-crawling fear
of confrontation,
and indisputable
in my mind
are the scars
of being so alone.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday prompt.  Image supplied by Deb Whittam.)