eternal alone time

either its too late at night or
that is the blue of morning
entering in slowly at evening’s end
raising the cup with the gradual grace and
nearly finished pausing the energies once more
as these minutes expire like unwatered plants
leftover time used to input ideas and
ashes and dirt twisting circles in the breeze
like the severe weather the coast is being punished by
opportunities which happen after the worst terrors
nestled deep in the mind is the last study
empty of sound but full of knowledge
there are hours when the final minutes matter most
in truth, the time spent doing what you love
makes every other part of life bearable
emotions can change an entire person
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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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