Sunday Afternoon


A cup of tea

And solitary confinement


Reflecting back in quiet air

Warmth seeps in


Against all restraint

A sigh is released

-Kel Dayheart



Missed Feeling

My feet don’t ache any more

From standing and walking

And standing some more

For hours on end

I didn’t care that they ached

Every single day

As though I had been on glass

Or maybe molten lava

I didn’t care

Because every day

My face ached just the same

From smiling at every single person

I came in contact with

I miss the ache in my feet

-Kel Dayheart

This isn’t a Game

Life isn’t a game

But we play it like it is

If only it were like a work of fiction

We would be guaranteed ever happiness

And not the illusions we set


Life gives no rules

But we live like there are

Nothing is given freely

But so easily thrown away

When no path is actually there to follow

-Kel Dayheart