'Waves on a sea bed of linen,
Are at the heart of every prison'

Such a strident thought to plague my mind
A single yawn before the dream.

Outside, I reach my moon
As it touches me,
Such a quiet companion
To be keeping
With the busier of minds.

I sit in the porch swing
For over an hour.
Rocking.
Thinking.
Creating.

I imagine a southern jukebox
That comes through clearly
By listening for its beauty in the ether.
Its music feels too endless.
Too easy.
While moving through me too freely.

My throat heats.
My heart aches.
I begin to weep.

Afterwards, I scare my ducks,
(Because I can)
And make my way towards the pond.

The new grass beneath my feet
Warns me to run forever.
As the memory of you and me,
Stops me at water's edge.

Where the frogs soon move me,
From musing nature's scant lullaby,
To analyzing Pharaoh's teeming nightmare.

I eventually retreat back inside.
Across the lawn.
Through the house.
Up the stairs.

Beneath my canopy of night,
Harsh thoughts
Clash wholeheartedly
With heated tears
And stifled cries.

'The stars were never shining down on me,
They just looked down on their luck.'

Such a wretched truth to plague my mind,
A mere wasted wish before the dream.