Posted in Poetry, prose

tomorrow


Frozen Pond Longing

Does it bother -you
or me
the way tinsel hangs
on the tree
or static waves -adjust
cling us
to every thing
and then we discuss?

i wonder where i am going with this poem? It hit me… wham! while brewing the morning coffee. It feels unfinished. Perhaps i do have more planned days ahead… another round of coffee, poured. Another night to contemplate what swims in my head.

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