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Book Unread

weathered book

You ask for the book and then page through
Reading only the parts of interest to you.
You never get the whole story, yet

On Waking

On waking
Photo Credit: Robert Nelson on Unsplash

I wish that at eight
It wasn't too late
For the poetry to rise to the top



Crumpled Words

crumpled papers
photo credit: https://unsplash.com/@moyse

Her tears held the page in place
A torrent of emotion obscured its face,
In words smeared and blurred
Their meaning lost.
The page was
Torn,
Mangled,
Tossed
Into the space of memory.

My Pencil

My pencil fell upon the road,
Full of the words I thought I’d write.