"My Place" and "Noteworthy"

My Place

Sitting, waiting at the train station

One pea-green suitcase, a paisley makeup bag,

And a paperback novel—the necessities.

Waiting, reading to pass the time

The wind is cruel, turning pages before I can read them,

It steals my bookmark—my place.

Running, chasing after the swirl of leaves and paper

The train whistles from behind me, announcing its arrival.

Before I know it, it’s here—time to go.

Watching, shuffling pages in the wind

Backward and forward in my adventure,

The time, setting, and mood swiftly change—without me.

Sitting, searching for my place

One pea-green suitcase, a paisley makeup bag,

And a promise of a new adventure—a new place.

Noteworthy

What is it about notebooks?

Is it the way they smell like the autumn, yet feel like a crisp winter’s day?

Is it the way the wire spirals through pages of bliss, trepidation, and despair and binds them as one?

Is it simply the way notebooks can be filled with such wonderful thoughts, ideas, and creations

Or be left unblemished and perfect?

Is it the way opportunity blossoms from the pages, yet grows in one’s heart?

Or is it the way a notebook is so much like a person—decorated any way one chooses, yet contains so much more than appearances can convey?