Can you go home again?

What a glorious day weather-wise we had in the city! Christmas is but a month away, yet there were people outside on various coffee-shop patios, reveling in the sun. It was wonderful to see. I decided take advantage of the bright sunny day and relative warmth and ventured out for much of the afternoon. And I wanted to accomplish at least one errand: buying xmas cards to send out. I've been awfully negligent in the past around sending out holiday cards, but I'm determined to make amends this year. Sending out cards tends to be one of those "adult things" that I'm not particularly good at. (Just add it to the list.)

It ended up turning into quite a walk, and one where I spent considerable time wandering the old neighbourhood. I stopped off for coffee and to do some writing at perhaps my favourite coffee house in the city, Moonbeam. It's safe to say that if you were there alone and you didn't have a pad of paper or a laptop computer, you were in the minority. (I overheard one woman chatting to a friend/acquaintance about her novel in progress. It didn't sound too thrilling.) I, however, ended up writing some poetry.

I seem to be in this poetic phase right now. Poetry is not a genre of writing I attempt often, and I think I know why: it's bloody difficult! I'm quickly discovering I'm not very good at it either (as evidenced by the poem I wrote yesterday; it was planned as three-part vignette, but I was only reasonably happy the camera obscura; the other ones are still in very rough and sad form). Still, I think I'm going to keep trying, at least for a little while. This is a portion of what I ended up with today while at Moonbeam. It was meant to capture my feelings about being in the old neighbourhood. (By the way, as you might be able to tell, I seem to have adopted a certain "style" of poetry: prose-like. It works for me...)

"I tried to travel home again, along streets and alleyways that were once as familiar to me as your moisturized skin, your long limbs, with my hands running along that fence we once gleefully (yes, it was glee, despite your denial) hopped."

Good lord, I need to work on my poetry skills! Yet again, something else I can point to, like much of my life, and say "it's a work in progress."