Poem Sunday | Feb. 7th, 2016

Nāmāste
So this is a poem entry which means it’s going to cover journal entries but in an artistic way! Can’t wait to share my poetry with ya’ll. These will not feature photos so the words can speak for themselves.
Thank you.

Leaves rustle with the smooth and swift wind
The air heavy and of faraway noises
The bench she sits on is older, russtic and red
Filled with holes, she is it’s mirror image
Breathing in, she is reminded that this isn’t her home
Her feet have put on many different shoes and rubbed off on several airplane carpets
Birds chirp loudly, seeming to point her out
Squirrels scurry up the trees upon the sight of her
Do they identify her clothes as the Western articles they are?
Her visit will be longer than usual so she must adapt to the fire ant bites
Elusive Misqiuto stings and
Newly found Dog slobber

I am so happy to have you here, thank you for being a part of my blogging journey.

-Leela Hamm, “The Blindian”

P.S. If you want IN-THE-NOW posts, add me on Snapchat @sanstomatoes

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