Poems

Stories Like Moths, Fluttering, Fluttering

 

There is a story inside me,

Hiding behind a gauzy

Veil of bad sleep,

Bad dreams, bad luck.

 

Sometimes it flutters past my eyes,

A lone moth drunk on old flannel

Daring me to swipe it from the

Sky and hold it in my hand but

 

I am too slow

Too clumsy

Too tired

Too tired.

 

There is a story inside me but

Today is not my day to catch it.

Categories: Poems, Uncategorized

2 replies »

  1. That same moth flies by my place every now and then. I have a few story ideas, but only ideas. I know I’ve forgotten more of them than I can remember as I’ve never wrote anything down. Same with drawing. It’s been seven years since I’ve done anything at all. Sometimes I think of tacking a piece of paper onto a wall and breaking out the pastels, but then that damned moth flies by.

    Like

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