So much to say
But neither the words or the wherewithal
A mind, brewing with bundles of
Too preoccupied with the
Big things of a little life
To dot the i and cross the
Tea, standing stone cold next to a
Dusty dreams lying in wait
For a hand to bring them to life,
While the beat of a heart and the rhythm of footsteps
March on in syncopation,
Not quite together but
Travelling in the same direction.
This is one of those poems that just sort of unreeled itself in my head. I was walking the dog in the sunshine, thinking about all the scary/exciting things that are happening in my life, thinking about how I’ve barely written a word in over a year, thinking about how I have the urge to articulate all of this busy, brilliant, terrifying stuff but every time I try the words just…aren’t there. Until these ones were. It’s enough, for now.
Go gently, friends.
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