Remember when you tried out for that job? That second of anticipation before you opened up the email to figure out whether or not you got it? Of course you did it tucked away from everybody else, because you were just checking. The few moments you let your face fall when they denied you the job.

Yet, you skipped out of your room. When I asked if you got the job you just shrugged, said nah, No biggie though. I wasn't the best option y'know? I'm glad they even considered me for the job. Then you smiled, cracked a joke and forgot about the whole thing.

But I kept wondering how you were able to brush it off so easily. I remember you stressing over the application, crossing your fingers through the entire interview. Tight enough that your knuckles turned white. I remember all your nervous remarks through the entire process.

I wanted to be just like you, able to brush off such an inconvenience with no thought except to smile. With only being grateful that you didn't get it. Claiming you only ever applied because it would look good on a college application in the future.

Yet, as the next year rolled around, and you applied for the same spot. Stressed over the application just a little more. Crossed your fingers a little tighter. Let the second of anticipation last a little longer, I wonder why. If it's really no biggie. Just something you can put on an application.

When you get the job this time, you jump squealing and excited. Thanking the Lord with all your heart. I can't help but to think, that maybe this job was a big deal. Being able to amount to whatever your sisters and brothers were. Being able to set a good path for your younger sister.

I wonder if you were just playing it off. Then again, maybe you did understand, and maybe you were simply grateful. But I also wish that you'd have told me what a big deal it truly was to you. Crying before being thankful is an option that I wish you knew.

Oh, December, you magical thing,

With frosty air and the joy you bring.

Twinkling lights and laughter abound,

In every corner, cheer is found.

Scarves and mittens, snug and tight,

Faces glowing in candlelight.

Cookies baking, their scent so sweet,

A season of love feels so complete.

Snowflakes dance in a winter’s waltz,

Nature's glitter, free of faults.

Children’s giggles fill the air,

As magic lingers everywhere.

Hot cocoa cups and stories told,

Memories made worth more than gold.

A time to give, to hug, to share,

To show the ones you love, you care.

Oh, December, you’re soft and kind,

Wrapping the year in peace of mind.

Let’s savor you, both near and far,

Our final wish, a shooting star.

© 2024 A.M. Roberts. All rights reserved.

Hey everyone,

It’s been a while since I’ve put pen to paper—or rather, fingers to keyboard. Life has been a whirlwind lately, and I’ve found myself caught in a bit of a writer’s block. With so much going on—mom life, work, baking, extra courses, and a growing list of tasks—I’ve been hanging on, juggling it all the best I can.

Even though I haven’t been writing, I’ve still been reading here and there. Your stories, thoughts, and creativity have been like little sparks of inspiration for me. They remind me of the magic of storytelling and the joy of sharing ideas, even when I can’t quite translate my own thoughts into words right now.

To anyone else who might be struggling to find balance or feeling overwhelmed: you’re not alone. Let’s keep pushing forward together. Life may be busy, but there’s always time to connect, reflect, and create—if only in little pockets of time.

I hope everyone is doing well and finding joy in your own journeys. Here’s to picking up the pen (or keyboard) again, one day at a time.

XoXo,

AMR

When latte goes down

sunset like lava

like when it comes

right back bottom up

and sits us on the cold

chair in some office

where it snows deep

inside behind the eyes

and we must sport

glasses for the blue

light that reflects

out from us, smart

and artificial as some

vomit on the carpet

the colors of paint

that jog the memory

of when we were 3

12.04.2024

Something funny

That I have discovered

The more I rely on my own strength

The weaker I become

Like Lucifer

I deny and separate

In so doing I wound myself

In fear I try to lift and carry it all

And so I fall

Broken

Again and again

I believe that God is the lesson in every wound

God is every gift, that comes unbidden

He is a patient, but strict teacher

Who wants what’s best for you

He will let you scream and yell

And shake your fists ’till you tire

And tears run down burning cheeks

Hot with anger turned cool in his oppressive grace

He is the little flame, that gently melts hearts of hardened ice

He forgives the unforgiven

Simply knowing, without a word

He takes the burden from your back

Though you gnash your teeth and fight for your “right” to suffer

He does it all, for no reason at all

For the great

And for the small

For the great…

For the small

For us all

They wake with light, two sparks so bright,

In their eyes, worlds of wonder and delight.

Hand in hand, they lead me on,

To lands unknown, at the break of dawn.

With laughter wild, they chase the breeze,

Climbing high, as if the trees

Hold secret whispers just for them—

My heart beats loud as their little hymn.

Through starlit dreams, their voices ring,

Tiny adventures in everything.

They hold my heart, fierce and free,

Two souls bound, forever with me.

© 2024 A.M. Roberts. All rights reserved.

I could do without

podcasts and reels

they have stolen seconds

& many conversations

leaving my heart half empty.

I miss us before the algorithm knew you better than me

before the internet became

a living thing

breathing down our necks.

You always know all the stories before I can share them.

Always in two places at once

one foot in the cloud

the other tethered to my heart

like a forgotten balloon that somehow still has air

still holding onto

the last breath of us

We learned together,

together we failed

and together we rose

until the end of our days

when our stories were old.

But, in that moment,

we were just kids,

sharing the gift of being friends.

This constant state to recreate

Dominates the majority

Of the human race.

But perhaps this is the way,

This constant striving, trying, reaching...

To just be,

That is the blissful way, yes,

And it holds sometimes, for a bit.

In my pangs of want,

I'll think, maybe I could do it better.

Make me better.

But I like surprises.

And I'm waiting to see

What I'll become.

the old oak tree

with a hollow trunk

and a country lean

finally felled

by a storm most mean

just a big ol' pile

of wood chips now

a void in its stead

ashes to be spread