It rightfully died
A few years back
Perhaps… not death..
Just a slumber… just a lack

Lack of knowing where to put
The little pieces
The only thing I own
My portion of self

Yet even that..
Is borrowed some would say
God made this slice
And I do my best to give it away.

Hands open
Mouths open
I pour and I feel robbed
Empty and yet still overflowing

An Ocean where no one swims
Movement ….  That is lost
Eyes turn and silently *****
… such a cost.

Funny how I feel it turn
Like the slumber is finished
A starting line with no runners
The line.. Still not diminished.


Tf 2/2016