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180: What 2021 Taught Me

Bok choy is a hidden gem.

The end of Elf, when everybody sings,

is enough hope to make me cry.

People are more than just their names.

I love you, and I’m still bad at texting.

Poems are like flowers. They bloom on their own time.

You can be homesick for feelings as well as for people.


Colorful glasses and overalls make me feel alive.

I feel closest to God early in the morning.

We bought a guest bed, solely for you.

The more I read, the more I want to.

The more I write, the more I want to.

I love the gray streak in my bangs. My mind is made up.


No matter how much I write, it still takes courage.

My concern for the environment rises with the tide.

When you tell me you are proud, I stand a million feet tall.

It will not feel like home, unless people come over.

As long as there are flowers, I will be just fine.



Written by Sarah Speed // Writing the Good


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Every night we sit on the couch. Your arm around my shoulders, my knees pulled towards my chest. We eat dinner. We talk about the day. The dog sleeps, belly up nestled on top of our sock feet. And eve

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Hi, thanks for stopping by!

I'm Sarah (Are) Speed, the writer behind Writing The Good. I'm so honored you're here! To get more poems, follow @writingthegood on Facebook and Instagram! 

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