the passing days have

have always drawn me back to a word.

or haven’t you heard?

this metal I wear around my

neck is sentimental,  not philosophical.

it is fate we met in wet green

rain bridge lake park after it is dark.

I bought a blank bound book to

write to you, that bites true.

if calling with positive karma vibes will

be what you need, then you’ll feed.

when I am destroyed by evolved

longing, I shall sing.

before it becomes dark thinking

realistically, i’ll drink some tea.

while we waltz our dancing

selves back home, it would

be a great roam, sharing the ideas

and places we have been,

once or again, seen.



About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s