Touched by humility with time to wait and see.
Humorously dashed to experiment in honesty.
Words can be precise but only when alone.
Much like life itself, it’s dark and damp beneath the stone.
A curious squirrel climbs a lilac to explore my porch.
We both wonder why I’m here.
The squirrel retreated though not defeated.
It is they who won, I remain seated.
Less I digress, more to be sure.
Life changes on a dime, I left to write with only rhyme.
Chaka baby beckons beyond, nostalgic breath I’m fond.
Dancing in an imaginary chair, day’s gray, air just fair.
Nicotine lingers, perhaps to know this first.
Sinking, swimming and drowning and yet still the thirst.
Thoughts flood of minutes, days, weeks and years.
Words flow when controlled by the moon and a sea of tears.
Laughter waves at depths unfathomable.
And the ring of life is forever shareable.
Journeys don’t end when the seeing changes.
Time begins anew when life engages.
My mind is weary; it’s a pile of abstract fluff with no thoughts to puff.
But I’ll write again tomorrow, cos enough is never enough.