Halcyon Dream
The trees stood like bones,
halcyon days with rain pouring down your
burning cheeks
you’re like a furnace he said,
rebirth came second to last –
the penultimate moment
nails scratch the chalkboard.
Isn’t it absurd,
the sound it makes?
wash it away with water,
let the chalk slip away
from you.
Ridiculous how idyllic it was,
sitting there by the river,
smelling like rain.
You always loved to dance
with droplets running down your body
By Maia Coen

Biography
Maia is a Creative Writing graduate from Colorado State University. She spends her time traveling internationally for work and writing for peace of mind. She enjoys writing poetry about the complexity of our relationships with ourselves and others. She intends to go to Graduate school wherever they will take her so she can continue to hone her craft.