Andie Bottrell
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Everything was old

8/11/2014

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Picture
Everything was old

Each morning
The fresh dew
Made it glisten
Like it was new again
And my memory
Being foggy from
Just waking
Could believe
That life was fresh
To me
But by noon
The high sun
Had sucked up
All the droplets
And moist
Became mold
Became old
Familiar territory
Memories remembered
Unpleasant things
Stuck to me like the
Blades of grass
That stained me
Green
And sky and earth
Were as far apart
As I remembered them
My dreams untouchable
The earth grounding me
I asked it
What I’d done so wrong
To be stuck in mud
Unmovable
While my eyes could feast
On lofty blues
Freedom in sight
But arms too short
To pull me up

Dirt
The brown appearance
Offensive smell
With bugs that slim and crawl
You don’t want anything
To do with it
At all
Yet, there you are
Married with
The force of gravity
Kept down

Sky
The free expanse
Of blue and white
And purple
With flight of birds
And warmth of sun
It seems almost
An obscene wealth
Of goodness
Yet people in skies
Who fly in machines
Never seem lost
In the wonder
Of it

I wonder if the machines
Having been built
On dirt
Have clouded them
Or have they
Who have been built
Up from dirt
Been tarnished so
From the start
To never be able
To appreciate the
Wonders of the sky

I think about these things
And get down
During the passing days
Each one quicker than the last
Each sky coming and going
And never in my
grasp

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    About

    Hey! I'm Andie Bottrell, a multidisciplinary creative living in Springfield, MO. I share stories (autobiographical and fictional), poems, and other creative or personal musings here. 

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