poetry by j matthew waters

recollection sunday

usually nothing comes to mind
due to the clutter inside
having built up over a lifetime
only occasionally sortable
though mainly a jumbled mess
making little to no sense

the pictures are uncountable
yet interchangeable
moving in & out of recesses
with emotionless abandon
the audio like birds of various colors
but mostly in shades of black

september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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