When I stopped writing poetry
Back in March 2016,
After a year or two of a poem a day,
I figured I had processed my life
Enough.
I started again the next year,
Missing the few minutes of
Creative expression
Each poem offered me.
But I figured I couldn’t rightfully
Invest the time,
And so I set it aside again,
Tired,
Believing I had nothing else to say.
But when I read Off the Clock,
Laura Vanderkam suggested
That time expands according to the
New memories each day affords.
Want more time? Daily ask,
“Why is this day different from all others?”
And this is what I miss—
The little glimpses of specific moments
I would otherwise forget,
A reminder to be thankful
For the small things—
For they are actually, in the end,
The important things.
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