March 22, 2017

Here I am, late again

Here I am, late again,
Wednesday at ten,
trying to conjure up words with my pen,
but the magic’s not working,
not like it worked then.
“Then?” When was that, how I wonder…

Last week was springtime.
The sun finally came,
searing away
the malaise
and the pain—
the ache in my neck,
the fog in my brain,
and the sadness that’d torn me asunder.

This week,
winter has come back to town.
Thunder-snow roars
and pools on the ground.
Though just an inch deep,
I feel like I’ll drown,
in the coldness
that’s pulling me under.

I just want greenery,
warmth, and the sun.
I want to finish
what I’ve left undone.
I want the words to spill forth and run
like magic,
like springtime,
like thunder.

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