It's been a while
Since I've written here,
The dust has grow
Upon these words.
The fluidity with which once they flowed,
Gone.
Gone is the promise of a new day,
A new sun,
A new poem,
Gone is that ready elegance.
Words come out now, yea,
But forced.
The line breaks choppier,
The rhythm forced and staccato
Rather than the smooth sailing
Or the fierce and glorious torment
Of a summer tempest
O'er the high seas.
But here I am,
Time have I,
And so
I write.