I sat down to write another poem
Spill out a slew of rhyme
Sat down to write another poem
Jot down a mess of lines
Conjure up a new idea
Knock loose my noggin in finding it
I sat down to write another poem
But nothing comes to mind

I sat down to write another poem
Not too lame, not too deep
Sat down to write another poem
To entertain both you and me
Climb rhymes tree to the furthest limb
The one with the swing to take a swim
I sat down to write another poem
But can't seem to take the leap

I sat down to write another poem
Of all  I have to say
Sat down to write another poem
But this blank wall is in my way
With inspiration everywhere
But it's over there and I'm stuck over here
I sat down to write another poem
Perhaps today is not the day

Truth be told
The old songs sound
Very, very old

Songs in moss
Are what come across
When I hear them play

Distant voices
Might bring to mind
Young love or a rainy day

But they seem covered with dust
Like silent nicknacks
On an old shelf

Or faded like pictures
Forever displayed
In halls inside of myself

Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze

So light and so fragile



Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze



Taking you to the past

Of your childhood memories

A time of no worries

A land of complete freedom



Swaying in the wind,

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze



Having no worries

Simple things of happiness

Pure ecstasy and liberation



Swaing in the wind

Floating with the current

Songs of the breeze.

Crisp blue
that fades to white
meets
the brown of fields and hills

puffy
gray green
thickets
in the distance

windless
cold

the clock ticks
a crisp clip
daylight already fading



© Whit Howland 2019