Counting. By Kathleen Herboth
One girl, One heart.
Too big of heart
Too big of a mouth
Too big of eyes,
Shedding too big of tears down too fat of cheeks,
Drenching the collar of an old sweatshirt
Three big words
That get caught up among three ways of being:
Body, mind, and soul.
Three times I’ve tried to get my point across,
And three times I have failed to show you.
For there are many stars filling up the sky
For there are many hands that can hold mine
For there are countless summer nights,
Promising adventure and something new
But forgive me for saying,
I’ve lost the count of days,
The pages got wet and ruined
The Oregon rain won’t hold out,
Drenching every inch of this place,
There is no way to escape the crying city
Portland weeps. I weep. I count not knowing why, or for what,
But I keep count, so at least I have something to hold on to.
——-
Biography: Kathleen Herboth resides in Portland, Oregon where she keeps busy among friends, family, playing soccer, and writing about everything she experiences. Her favorite mode of literature is poetry, where lyrical rhymes express her every day encounters.
