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.
like thunder.
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