Saturday, July 11, 2009


Often I feel the words gush out of me
Much like a river; a poem, an essay, a stream.
Dancing through my eyes,
making me squirm and squeam.
Can’t find a buncha keys, neither pen nor paper to absorb ink
Teasing me in their lucidity
Changing pace with alacrity
A phrase once made,
Never to return,
Nothing is the same again.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Yes, I appreciate your "two pennies", drop in!