Watching children skipping
Rocks
Playing ball , running fast
Laughing out loud
Watching the sun
Petting a dog,
Chasing a cat
Holding  tight to
Momma's hand
Did this happen
To me
Or while Watching
Did I just imagine

It takes me
perhaps a few minutes,
at most,
to write a poem.

In the brief instant
between
creation and publication,
I am convinced
that this poem cannot be
improved.

But note,
it is never the claim,
that the poem is
any good.

I write
so that I may express
what I had genuinely felt
for a few moments.

I used to grow flowers.
Pretty little petals
Sprouted from letters.
Into pretty little paragraphs
Sprouted from words.

Now I only grow lonely.
Ugly little concepts
Sprouted from doubts
Into fetid thoughts
Sprouted from desolation.