Saturday was special. I ate breakfast alone at Panera with my blank spiral ring notebook opened up in front of me, pen at the ready. And I wrote the first words that came to mind. Then I kept on writing…
Anything is Possible
(A poem about maybes)
Maybe I could write a poem about maybes, eat an avocado and egg white sandwich, sing along with a musical con man and make people believe in themselves. Anything is possible. Maybe I could sit alone in a coffee shop and pretend to have ideas until the ideas take a shape of their own, or hang with making makers and catch their vibe. Anything is possible. Maybe I could get my hair cut short, feel the weight of female expectation fall from my head, smile as my hard-earned silver drifts down to my shoes. Anything is possible. Maybe I will look at this day as nothing less than the miracle it is, breathe deep of the swiftly passing lilacs and whisper into the wind, Don’t miss it. Because anything is possible.
It's a keeper!