Downtown

It's hard for me to be
on your side of town.
There's too much history,
too many memories
to forget that my life
was once here
with you.

I do not wish to
repeat the past or
return to you.
There is much I
miss of you, but I
am not willing to
trade my life today
for that of yesterday.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(the smell of a coffeehouse)

the smell of a coffeehouse:
one of the things I fell
in love with in college

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(draining the last bit of)

draining the last bit of
froth from my coffee cup,
not wanting the evening to end

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Bookstore

The silence of readers reading,
the screech of the espresso machine,
the whispered conversations shared
between bites of bagel, biscotti and bisque,
each one a part of the quiet community --
learning, leaning and listening.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(The less I spoke of you)

The less I spoke of you,
the quicker you left me
alone.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(my goal)

my goal:
to make sure
she smiles

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(the trick to)

the trick to
surviving traffic:
good music

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Invisible Scab

Like a scab that covers
a wound until the new
skin arrives, silently,
overnight, a protective
covering has appeared
on my wounded heart to
guard it while You heal
the hurt with Your strong,
tender hand. I feel the
invisible shield keeping
me from further injury as
You mend me from within.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Snow Garden

Our yard was a garden
of snow and our father
was the gardener. He
made snow forts and
an obstacle course of
sorts for my sisters and
me in the front yard one
winter. It was an exciting
adventure, and a little
bit scary, but I felt safe
knowing that Dad was
guiding the sled and
guarding the fort. I still
remember his laugh
that day as we squealed
with delight, holding tight
to the orange, plastic sled.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Acrocats

Cats can contort their
bodies in such curious
configurations. Whether
for bathing, hunting,
napping or recreational
purposes, they can be
seen in the most peculiar
forms. I am convinced
that cats would make
incredible gymnastic
competitors -- curvy,
little acrobats with keen
eyesight, magnificent
agility and nine lives apiece.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Thanksgiving Traffic

Three miles in an
hour and a half --
bumper-to-bumper
interstate congestion and
stomach indigestion,
angry drivers with
hungry kids, no
exit in sight, and
no explanation.
Arrivals delayed;
hugs and hand-
shakes on hold;
dinners postponed.
It was easy to get
irritated and impatient,
until we saw
the white sheet
on the ground.
Suddenly, we were
thankful for the
fume-filled air that
we were breathing.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

From One Keyboard to Another

Sometimes, when I have my
headphones on at work, I
find myself typing in rhythm
to the tunes tapping their
way into my eardrums. Bobbing
my head to the beat and
hitting the keys in syncopation,
I feel almost as if I am a part of
the album orchestration flares,
fills and frills. I wonder if my
co-workers notice as I nod up
and down, rolling my fingers
on the black keys. I smile and
continue punching the keys like
a piano keyboard, in time and tempo.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

(in the plastic wrapper)

in the plastic wrapper:
half of a fortune cookie;
half of a fortune

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

(traffic)

traffic --
minutes in car: 30
miles traveled: 0

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

(cat in a frenzy)

cat in a frenzy:
from the window --
watching falling leaves

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Dichotomy

Half of my week
is spent
missing you desperately.
The other half
is spent
remembering that I
can't
trust you.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

(the leaves mimicking)

the leaves mimicking
the sound of raindrops in the
wooded autumn hills

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

(eyes widen)

eyes widen:
brilliant, cranberry-
orange-colored foliage

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

The Day After Friday

I love waking up on
Saturday morning with
no agenda, no meetings,
no deadlines, no traffic.
I love waking up to a
day of possibility --
drinking my first cup
of tea at my leisure,
spending time with my
thoughts and writing
them down, looking
out my window and
watching nature awaken
to this Saturday, to this
glorious day of possibility.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall

Moments to Smile #1

In the bookstore parking lot,
I sat in my car, unwrapping
the treasure I had just purchased --
inside the car parked next to me, a
woman doing the very same thing.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall