You just be you,
who cares what others do.
At the end of the day,
they’ll be gone anyway.
Then you’ll be left alone,
another day unknown.
Because none can ever tell
where you inwardly dwell.
That’s the fun of being you,
even if your secrets are few.
Just be happy you exist,
and go on and be remiss.
Your life is yours to live,
you don’t always have to give.
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
Insecurities are pointless,
for you’ll never be forgotten
by someone who is meant for you;
the attachment goes far too deep
to be severed by passing fancy.
And inside the heart of every heart
one knows their true intentions.
Thus, nothing will ever fall away
when it is destined for your life.
Simply trust your intuition
as every soul reveals its secrets.
In actions so clearly displayed,
the final test resides so assuredly
within the eyes of those we seek.
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
It was a warm-weathered day as delicate petals pelted and pranced across the pages of an open book. Occasionally, a brisk breeze would materialize, causing a sudden soirée of flowers to take flight, ultimately embellishing the barren pages, which seemed particularly peckish for a poetic phrase. It was as if the tree were purposely parading posies in an attempt to gain the attention of the writer below. But the wordsmith was lost in a world of rhythmic ruminations, never giving the tree a single thought, focusing solely on the stark landscape of her inconsolable book. Had the writer even an inkling about what the tree desired to divulge, she may have taken a moment to meditate, soaking in the silent secrets of her friend above. But as this wasn’t the case, the writer continued to stare blankly, utterly unaware of the many mysteries that were longing to be revealed.
© 2024 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tree-cherry-field-horizon-nature-6623764/
Do you ever try to send whispers on the wind,
and if you do, what do you say?
Are your murmurs pleasant and cheery,
or do they come out more cold and gray?
What if everyone sent messages on the wind;
do you think we’d all feel more heard?
Imagine a chance to say all you want
and never be deferred.
I often wonder if our soft soliloquies
do sometimes make it to their intended;
to be able to pour out our hearts without reproach
seems like it would be quite splendid.
Confrontation can be so intimidating;
I often wish others could just feel my words.
Spoken sentimentalities drifting on the wind,
is it really all that absurd?
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Life was forever bliss
under that strawberry sky.
Intertwined, we remained,
just you and I.
Caught up in imaginings
only we could see.
Keeping each other’s secrets
and running free.
Making love on that sandy,
secluded shore.
Every delicious desire
was ours to explore.
© 2021 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/indonesia-islands-landscape-sea-5172119/
Her Writing Haven 