Taylor Gillis

Category: Poetry

  • Pocket Treasures

    Pocket Treasures

    The minute we get home, you rush inside and turn out your pockets.
    This has been a productive walk.

    First, out comes a rubber band.
    Ryan, our mailman, seems to always drop them.
    “This one’ll be perfect for hitching train cars,” you say.

    Next, the penny.
    A little rusty, but Mom says when life shows you abundance, always accept.
    No matter how small it seems.

    Finally, the rock.
    A special one.

    You almost missed it—
    but when you looked down to check your shoelaces, there it was.
    On the sidewalk, near the grass.
    Black. Smooth. A shiny white stripe down the middle.

    Before you slipped it into your pocket, I could see—
    you already knew.

    This one was for Mom.

    Because the best way to appreciate abundance
    is to pass it on.

    Thanks for reading.
    I’m collecting these small moments as I go.

    Take a look around: Browse the shop or check out Free Crappy Art

  • Mornings

    For a while, I would sneak down early

    Start my day mindfully

    Just some quiet time before the day begins.

    Sometimes 15 minutes. Sometimes an hour.

    I knew how to minute the creaks.

    Step on the first.

    Skip the second.

    Around the landing.

    Two steps, then skip.

    Quiet the rest of the way.

    Silence was mine.

    And then you got older.

    Or the clocks changed.

    I’d hear a hushed “Dad’s up.”

    Before I even hit the landing.

    By the time I reached the couch I’d hear your descending pattern.

    No skipped steps.

    All thumps.

    I’d curse myself for feeling disappointed.

    I try not to let on.

    As we sit together on the couch.

    Still mindful

    Just a different practice.