Poetry (words)

Thursday 

I woke with a head full of words. Cryptic like a screwed up letter rewritten and tossed aside. Am I supposed to make sense of it? I’d like to try.
I have lines written years ago. Just lines that will someday be something, something other than just lines.

Scraps of paper a reminder of inspirations lost in a thought. Fresh words with new meaning are now, my love. 

What I write falls with meaning, always loaded always with reason. I won’t  wade through metaphors when forthright has such beauty to explore. 

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s