A Letter To My Other Self

she sits and she waits

To be let in

Is she the winter

In the spring

She imagines you have left green leaves

That trickle and shine

Is she the better world

Some other life waiting to be lived? outside

You leave the window open on the journey in

The door to your home is ajar

Under grey skies

Is she the love you never had?

Roots clutching earth in the coldest climate

but she cannot tell you how to love or live

Or dream

There is no time

There is no place

she exists

and yet she is extinct

Measure her

take note of every form as if she were born in

shape in height

measure her well with your eyes

for in the morning she will have taken flight

out of the darkness into the light

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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