Smoke Signals {poetry}

I'll send you a smoke signal

just so you'll know I'm alright.

It won't be much 

or nearly quite enough -- I'll admit it--

and you might even miss it,

but it's all I have the strength to do.

Sometimes...right now I ponder:

what's the point?

Do you even care?

But I remember what you've said

before it turns to ash,

and so that smoke signal comes

or is coming

as soon as I set this fire

or learn how to rearrange my words.

I'm trying to rearrange my words,

but written down,

they lack all meaning.

They're hollow. Too much. Too little.
Do you have the grace to see 

right through my confusion?

Maybe you can just read

between the lines?

Or will this smoke signal suffice?

Will it mold itself into an S.O.S?

Don't bother. 

It's just enough to let you know

I'm alright,

and I promise

I'll come back.

I won't know the date.

I don't know when 

I'll be happy again,

but you'll be the first to know.

Till then, look to the sky.

I promise I'll let you know I'm still alive. 

***

Hey there, I didn't intend to take a week off from blogging, but you know life. I actually persuaded my mom to write a guest post, but she hasn't finished it (she's a little bit out of practice with writing. Still -- I'm excited to share the post with you sometime this month). I've been spending more time and energy on writing stories again, and I've also been rereading some of my old favorite books. I haven't ever really been much of a rereader, but this year I decided to start. So far I've read The Magician's Nephew; The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe; The Gammage Cup and The Whisper of Glocken by Carol Kendall (I dearly love these two books, especially the second one. The characters are endearing, and I even chuckled a few times which is a rarity). Currently I'm working on The Horse and His Boy and Anne of Green Gables, too. I feel like I'm visiting old friends. It's so delightful. What are some favorite books from when you were younger that you'd consider your 'old friends'?