Seattle

A sponge to the rainy days,
a green jewel in the sun.
Lines of books,
flashing screens at just one swipe.
Fragile flowers' petals,
flying fish and fruits.
Pinks, greys, blues, silver.

Decaf coffee,
accompanied with a "Thank you",
"Have a great day".
The stream of caffeine,
and cold traffic jams.
The smell of paint and pigment,
on the canvas.
The smell of sea salt,
following the chatter of mischevious seagulls.

The sun's rays dimming to a calm glow.
As the night comes,
it is young,
the Ferris wheel is alight,
along with neon lights,
and a grid of building windows in the distance.
The sight is warm and lit.

The Emerald City.
A city of smiles.
"A welcoming city."
Coffee, salmon, apples, rain,
and a classy, tasteful world to me.

In and Out
By Kasey C.

I spit dirt out of my mouth,
He cleans it, like He has my whole self,
inside and out, completely.
I still see where I am,
the grit; the caked dirt walls.
The sun is far away,
simply out of my awareness.
The light is supplied by Him.
There is a whisper.
"You must persevere,
you must lie dormant,
for your time will arise."

I've believed that whisper,
as it repeated in my head,
over and over,
as my sun rose.
So many others have gotten used to such golden light,
their cheeks tanned,
sometimes they hide in the shade.
I have emerged,
noticing everything; as new and exciting.
I have so much to do,
in this sun; this light.
My eyes are still adjusting!

I hear the whisper,
it sounds faint.
This makes me distraught,
the voice was so dependable; loving.
Almost like a father.
Maybe it was.
It tells me what to do in this strange world.
So little time.
Every time I walk,
dust covers my heels.
He cleanses me,
but I almost always am recovered in filth again.

How grateful I am,
as both the light of the sky,
and the light of him,
calm me.
But how wretched am I,
to make what is cleansed dirty again.
I must trust,
as He trusts.
I was able to wait;
to rise.
I have a task to do.
I hope that I may do,
what has been assigned to me.

I will be grateful,
I will be trusting.
Even if I fall,
He will be there,
to lift me up.
To get me out.

Nature's Lady

In some ways,
nature is a lady.
Here, she wears necklaces of emerald,
or shining gold.
Such colors that artists can only aspire to harness.
She has glowing skin in the evenings,
just before she puts on her shawl of night.

When Mother Nature is happy.
So are we in her domain,
so are the buds in bloom,
the carefree creatures of the Earth.

In many ways,
her beauty is rare.
She needs no makeup.
Look there,
on those roses,
they show her light blush there.

The valleys;
her skin.
The rivers;
her hair.
So why should you not treat her with care?

Difference

What makes me so different?
I think,
often,
as I sit,
in the middle,
of a clique.
They discuss Minecraft,
Facebook,
some breakup.
Sounding faint,
as if they were reading a script,
mixing in some profanity.

"I know right?",
"We don't need you....",
and "That's SO not cool",
are some common phrases.
It only echos quietly in my conciousness,
as I sit,
in that little room.

I think of homework,
friends,
Shakespeare,
which may be odd,
"Thy tears are womanish".
Many don't know what I'm talking about,
I get lost just trying to catch up with some.
As far as generic,
social status goes;
I'm simply out of luck.

I am glad.
Elated, overjoyed,
ecstatic.
I am who I am.
I have no makeup,
no hiding my face.
I don't go hugging boys,
not random ones,
all over the place.

I use my IQ,
instead of my lashes,
to get by.
To do,
what I want to do.
My pursuit,
of my dream.
Drifting with hope.

Although I have space,
and sit by the window,
occasionally,
looking out,
alone,
I know I will last.
My difference keeps me alive.
I know I will pass.