crumb catching

Day 63.3/365

By Ellie HoovsPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read

You drop breadcrumbs

little tokens

of happier times

that make me think

there might be

a trail back to then

but they turn to mush

in the ground

that has turned to mud

from the salt water

that drips

from my wounds

and I am reminded

once again

of frozen tundra

in this ice age

which we live in

crumbs cannot sustain

more sustenance

is needed

to combat

the cold

Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.

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