Writer's Whispers

Tortuous search

My eyes sting

as I scroll down this webpage,

they burn,

each second I invest into my search.

My search for a poem

that makes me feel content

with my whole day -

or fills me with a lot to think about.

Or, maybe it's simply a poem

that describes how I feel right now.

///

But,

I need to find that one poem,

before my day is complete,

and my brain allows my body,

to sink into my bed sheets,

hide under the comfort of a cotton duvet

and be lulled to sleep by the whispering wind

and rustling leaves.

///

So poets,

don't stop writing,

because my sleep,

is in your ink bottles