So much to say

But neither the words or the wherewithal

To speak

A mind, brewing with bundles of

Half-formed ideas,

Too preoccupied with the

Big things of a little life

To dot the i and cross the

Tea, standing stone cold next to a

Half-filled notebook,

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

Somehow

Travelling in the same direction.

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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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