Here I lay
blanketed by strings.
Caresses of chords
strum through my strain,
of must do's and send me.
Off to a time
before life crammed into me,
hours not long enough
to fill my days
with anything more than lists.
Here I lay
falling, spinning
into control.
Guided by her voice
ascending, she sends me.
back to the place
I have yearned to be.
And for now,
for this moment, I feel
like me.
YOU ARE READING
Intermission
PoetryPoetry written many years ago. I found my voice and lost it. As a step towards recovering my voice I decided to share these poems.
