Saturday, October 5, 2013

I Write

My purse is littered with half written ideas
Sheets of paper, folded and creased
Crumbled and worn from rubbing
The dregs of my purse:
Loose change, paper clips, hard candy and
Unfinished ideas
Some take flight, stuck to an envelope
Handed over the post office counter
Written thoughts winging their way to freedom
Retrieved by the postal clerk
A To Do List, he said as he handed it back
A to do list, indeed
I drag them out, blinking and stumbling
Into the light of day
And I think,
Oh, I remember now,
I write.

No comments:

Post a Comment