Is It Regret?

As I look at Lock Haven outside my window,

I stare at the mountain covered in the beautiful

changing trees of fall

as vibrant as the sky at dusk.

So many shades of auburn and golden yellow

blowing across the streets.


This book about powerful

professional poets rains on my mood,

all of the stories I read are as bleak

as my eggshell colored walls.

Much like the housework I’m avoiding,

I keep finding other things to do instead of read.

I can’t help but lose myself

in thought as I sit here.


Why am I in the middle of Pennsylvania?

Why am I in a town

where the cornfields and

trees are as tall as


and there’s a church with ringing bells

around every corner?


Why am I in the mountains

where it snows so much

you feel like you’re at the North Pole?

The wind whips across your face.

It stings like a jelly fish

touching your bare skin,

and there’s nowhere to escape the cold.

Where you can wear seven layers of clothes

just to walk to class and still freeze

by the time you arrive.


I could have ended up anywhere on the globe,

like sunny California where it never snows,

or the busy streets of New York

where there are real skyscrapers,

somewhere where there are rooftop parties,

or big extravagant events like movie

premieres and celebrity meet ups to attend,

or even a beach to get away from all the stresses of life.


But alas my heart chose tiny

little Lock Haven,

where you can go to Texas

every night,

and still be back to finish your readings,

which I still have to do.



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