lonely mirror

all these people
look into me,
but never too deeply;
they are all caught up
in their own reflections –
and yet when i look at them,
i can’t see me.

© Tiny Fawns, 2018

in two places at once

she arrives to
her destination
with ease, sits
down at a table
fingertips warmed
by a cup of coffee

yet her mind
is in thought
somewhere else,
a place where she is
not at a table,
drinking coffee

© Tiny Fawns, 2018

the last candle

lighting the last candle
to burn down into the new year
i’ll let the last moments
float away in the smoke, while
the candle melts in on itself without fear.

time slips away yet
approaches us without question,
handing us the answers
to our lives we must
strive to create wisdom from –
though at times foolishness
appears to undo it all.

moments which ran away
into our memories
somehow always seem to
call in on our hearts,
knocking on the doors
of our minds when
we least expect them.

let them burn down and
chase after the last candle.
take all of the dark
and burn it into light.

and once the last flame
sleeps, we can let our
hearts settle into the night

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: finally

goodbye, 2017.

some mistakes aren’t
meant to stay mistakes.

they don’t have to be
frozen in time; some can
be mended or repaired –

i’ll tell you one of mine.

time slipped away from me
this winter, and so did my poetry.

i let winter clouds
weigh in on my mind.

but you probably think,
that’s fine. it’s okay to fall behind …

… not to have words written every day.
even if you began the year saying 
you would definitely do this, day after day.

and i would quietly argue with myself,
not if you’re me though, my
mind likes to stack up and
remind me of every moment
i fall behind.

but i don’t want to hold
my shadows hostage,
making myself a victim
of myself –

so i mended it all, i went
back and tried to write
out each and every word
for all of the days that have passed –
i realized the bookshelf of my mind never
grew thin, there were just some
months where my words wanted
to stay tucked within my head
a little longer;

i learned missing a few
days doesn’t make me any weaker
of a writer or any stronger of a poet.

winter clouds aren’t so light but
they aren’t so heavy either.

it wasn’t a perfect year of writing,
but i tried my best to treat
the imperfections with care,
because there,

in those moments
is where i found the key to 2018 –

always try to do better,
until you know better,
then follow that road,
even in muddy waters
flowers can still grow.