Many a night I lie in my bed,
wanting for sleep but thinking instead.
Thoughts swirl and eddy or race on ahead,
clouds of confetti that beg to be read -
these words whirling ‘round in my head.
Many a morn I rise before dawn
to capture my thoughts before they move on.
Couplets that rhyme and phrases of prose
to be anchored in ink before they all go -
these words whirling ‘round in my head.
Many a day I struggle and strain,
pit word against word, wracking my brain.
Sifting through noise til I find a refrain,
in search of a poem that’s perfectly framed -
these words whirling ‘round in my head.
One final click and the words are all sent
to wander a web of indifferent extent.
Hoping that somewhere they just might connect
and hope above all that they mean what I meant -
these words whirling ‘round in my head.
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