Just when I think
I've got myself together,
I recover another piece
that had been forgotten about.
Did these fragments
break themselves off?
Or was it the words of another
that caused them to flee?
I left this chink
to wear and weather
as thoughts increase
amidst a mental drought.
In my absence
the scrap scoffed,
thinking it had its own rudder,
trying to be its own me.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PuisiPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
