blank sheet of paper
feeling tired & a bit blue
thumbing through thumbnails
trying to find that genuine smile
must have been
two or three or four years ago
for some reason time
has ceased to be linear
nights dominate the skies
crescent moon stationed eloquently
neighborly planets presenting
themselves as escorts
pre & post dusk
impatient poet
dwells inside a world inside a world
pen or pencil in one hand
flashlight in the other
rhymes & alliteration like static noise
grinding & sizzling & echoing
inside his crowded head
december two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
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