We wanted to be adults so bad, now look at us. Just look.

It's been a long time since I have written a poem

Is it that I have nothing to say?

Or have I become self concious about my ability to communicate.

To use my words and create a picture, to use my words to inform, persuade, entertain?

Maybe the words didn't stick, maybe nothing was really pretty or new or fun

Something was pretty,I saw it.

Maybe once in a while there comes a time when you just have to be still and listen and absorb.

Maybe after a while,  the words come back and you find new ways to experience the joy and beauty of any given moment.

Or maybe, if you give in to the deadlines, the pessimists, the frowners, the checklisters, you eventually become one of them.

I think I will step into some sunshine now, and feel the breeze on my skin.

I'll know that even if the poet in me is quiet, a new spring creates songs all around me.