Category: Roundhouse Poetry Collective

Amalgamated
stories through all our voices
for those without home.

Mostly, they worked well.
Heads down, scribbling answers down –
erupting at break.

There’s correlation
between us: their excitement
and my utter dread.

Learning that mistakes
do not need to scar or bruise:
you can heal yourself.

From crazy straws of
childhood perpetual summers,
to spring time cocktails.

Each year passes by,
like a deck of cards dealt out:
the outcome unknown.

It’s been a long time
but I ran on the treadmill,
went out and drank beer.

Donate to my 10k for Macmillan