Miracles Below My Feet

Title of my poetry book

These fireworks,

These loud crashes in the night

I keep silent for only myself.

These stories that have lit me up

Brighter than Vegas and

Brighter than speed

Now ashes on the ground

To collect in glass jars, labeled,

“Remember.”

I’ve grown quiet, 

I’ve learned to turn these words to something, 

These miracles below my feet.

I’ve had close to happiness and am always unsure

Of what to do with it.

The visions of seventeen

Watching that couple in love

Spinning drunk on foreign cobblestones 

Betting, I could be the same. 

Waiting for him

Or waiting for her

To love me as the memory holds. 

I guess it set a longing 

That won’t ever be caught,

Because I’ve known what it's like

To have warmth in the winter

Then lose it by summer.

These miracles below my feet. 

All the creatures I have ever loved,

Slept next to on cold nights,
All the friends come and gone and 

Come back again, 

Family with their eyes

Touched by a new sadness. 

We were once together but now

These memories all seem to be 

But just miracles

Below my feet. 

I cross the lawn barefoot,

I do not forget

That it was amazing,

It was aching, 

It was everything. 

And these miracles below my feet

Are just the reason

Life is worth living.