214: Waiting

I light a campfire so you will find me. I sit down to wait. I have brought little, beyond the lighter, a blanket, and myself. I expect the night will get cold. I bundle up and place my feet by the fire. It dances around my leather boots, drawing out the moisture while I watch. I should have brought a kettle and some water. A bag of tea. It would have kept me company in the dark. Maybe you will remember.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.