“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”
Scout, To Kill a Mockingbird
One does not love breathing
It is simply done
One does not love evening
It is simply setting sun
One does not love cooking
It is simply the next meal
One does not love looking
It is simply what is real
One does not love waking
It is simply what we do
One does not love aching
It is simply where are you
One does not love grieving
It is simply ever blue
One does not love breathing
It is simply what we do
Throughout November I am writing a poem every day as part of an effort to raise funds for The Center For New Americans. If you like the poems (or even if you don’t) and would like to support this fantastic organization, please follow this link. Thanks.