A poem a day for a year #185

by Amy Turn Sharp


The green hills are so dense that they are black to the eye. To a bird eye for sure. Black against the childhood blue sky. I feel like a compass lives in my chest. A magnet in my heart.
My old granny invites me into her apartment. We drink tea and eat baked goods. She looks at me like I am golden and tells me about the womanizer who lives next door. I am surrounded by my life. My parents live in frames on the walls. They are young under the glass. I am older than them.
This is what it feels like when everything in the world is right. It won't last, but this is what it feels like.