A few short poems

Sometimes I think I hear crickets
Through my window
no one will tell me if I have imagined
something so real again

Remember the little white bugs
and one landed on your phone screen
flitting around us
like ashes of snowflakes past

There are some patterns seen two ways
I can never choose between them
Do you suffer such dilemmas
between versions of the past?

As always, I appreciate any feedback, including questions, or which one is your favorite 🙂


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