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
What is the point of madness
this rat race
this outdoing of ourselves
time and time again,
when does it end,
death?
And who’s counting the days,
you or me?
The completeness of our lives
is it weighed on merit?
Self-accomplishment?
Maybe a little of both?
Maybe neither?
What do we do when our intuition becomes corrupted,
when the things we thought we wanted have blurred lines
and no direction.
Do we keep repeating the same old story?
Take a new path?
Perhaps what justifies our actions could be all that truly matters.
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
A pot of tea
steeping slow
allowed the conversation
to drift, then flow
A trembling hand
a splatter of cream
all witnessed beneath
a summer sunbeam
Starting with a look
a blooming glance
the wind stirred
in the sight of romance
Blushing boughs offered
a chance alone
doing all the things
some would never condone
With the wide old oak
shielding their play
prying eyes
slowly crept away
Rousing smiles rendered
a half giggle or two
as heartstrings seized
love anew
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
During the heart of summer silliness
shimmery beads spill softly
subduing, yet giving rise
to the warm embrace of the day.
A kaleidoscope of kisses
clings to my sun-scorched skin
whispering sweet nothings
in my worn-out, weathered ears.
A single drop sizzles
on the tip of my tongue
pieces of parched earth
come alive in my mouth.
I drink in the days of my youth
the ends of eras, no longer lost
forgotten moments flickering
embers that never quite expired.
A flood of emotions permeates
all the hidden parts of me.
Funny, I could’ve sworn
I’d never see days like this again.
© 2025 Michelle Cook
Photo generated with AI
Little leaf blowing
Near the roses in my yard
A thing of wonder
Though most disregard
I love to watch you
Scamper and prance
Free from your branches
You’re finally able to dance
I often wonder why the world
Seems to forget who you are
I suppose most are more interested
In all the bright shiny stars
But to me you’re a thing of beauty
As you bring life to my dreary day
And I’m so very grateful
That you are never far away
© 2017 Michelle Cook
Her Writing Haven 