the sun stayed on

all day

I remember the hopper —
how it bounced
and my smile bounced with it
those days.

The sun stayed on
for the whole time.
I’m sure it did.

Dinner always came
too early,
like it was trying
to catch me out.

Shoes wouldn’t help —
laces hiding,
waiting
until I asked someone else.

My clothes loved the mud.
They dived straight in.

Chocolate wasn’t mine,
never for long.
It always knew
where my friends belonged.

None of it felt really lost.

It just slipped lower,
closer to the ground,

waiting
where small things
still happen,
with softer sounds.

And sometimes
I still feel it —

in the way the sun
lingers too long,

or the way something sweet
never tastes
the same,

even when
it stayed
exactly
where it was.

ㅤ

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For those who choose to go a little deeper
paid subscribers get
access to a Guided Noticing,
and occasional paid-only pieces,

Everything I publish publicly stays public.

This is about making space for slower work, and for people who want to stay close to how it’s made.

If you’ve been hovering, this is a good moment to step in.

I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.

Other prose and poems from me.

The Noise That Forgot Silence - Ep 4

Still, Nothing

Warmth, still

What Fear Whispered Before

Another night, later.

still close enough

Between the two of us

Idle

One Step Is Enough

The Sun Said Hop

She Arrives in the Pause

Not All Love Is Meant To Be Found.

🌈 When Rainbows Speak Back

Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.

If something moved in you — a silence that whispered — I’d love to hear it below, or in my DM’s.

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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery