What gets left behind
with our unmade minds
forever rushing?
What do we leave behind
if we did not take the
the time to notice?
What is no longer mine
because neither you nor I
could take our time?
12/02/2024 j.g.l.
look around
Be thankful
for what you have, for
what you have to let go of,
and for those who are still
with you. Gratitude comes
in many forms. Look around.
Be thankful.
j.g.l.
cloud songs
It is only silence and only
for now, a minute or three
but who is counting?
Enough, for now.
Slight Repose, a little grace,
enough until you have
found your place. Might be
morning, or the end of the day,
yet it is time to yourself anyway.
For now.
11/29/2024 j.g.l.
I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.
j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
Mondays are just young Fridays
Posted on December 28, 2020 by j.g.lewis
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Next week will be next year.
It can happen that fast, or
it will take its time, as it has
day by day all through the past.
It has been that kind of year,
with that kind of face.
Less than unpredictable, yet
full of surprise, these days
have given us space and time
to soak in each second,
It has been that kind of slow.
It has been that kind of pace.
It has been the year we’d all
like to forget or replace
with even the year before,
or that totally shitty one
nine years back; or
the one (you remember)
even before that.
We might settle for any year
except the one we just had.
Last year was cruel
and contemplative and so
unfortunately bad. A year
almost done, with our sights
not yet clear, let’s look ahead
to what soon might be near.
12/28/2020 j.g.l.
