15.01886 Days

One thing I've always loved about me

Is the way that I can talk.

The way that I can grab thoughts,

And ideas,

And notions,

And then give them shape,

And size,

And life.

If the pavement could talk,

It would describe the sound of my feet beating on its coal surface,

The pitter patter of sweat and blood and rain,

Each step bringing me closer to my goal.

If my pens could talk,

They would recount the scratching sound they make when they hit the paper,

Furiously writing,

Loose ideas and thoughts pulled together

Until they form a web of prose.

If paintbrushes could talk,

They would explain the way they flow across a blank page,

The way that ribbons of paint appear out of nowhere,

Each stroke with a story behind it,

And then the way they come together,

Each a small part of a bigger whole.

If birds could talk,

They would describe the many, many, times I've craned my head

To glance up at the sky,

Beyond the cotton-candy clouds that look like birds or cats or frogs,

Past the eternity of the azure hued sky,

And right at the birds soaring through it,


Flying above everyday woes.

If flowers could talk,

They would tell of the many times I stopped to smell them,

Seeing each one for itself,

Feeling very much like Alice in Wonderland.

If water could talk,

It would express the way it gives me an electric shock,

Whenever I launch myself off the block and dive into it,

The way that my arms would whip up a fury,

And the way my legs kick up a storm.

So there you have it;

My life summed up in 326 words.

That's about 15.01886 days of my life

For every single word.

And if these 326 words could talk,

They would say that you'd have to read each and every word for 15.01886 days

To really understand my life.