It seems like fluff,
A superfluous,
Meandering waste
Of time that could
Be spent multitasking.
A poem asks for
Release,
A letting go of
Boundaries
And preconceived notions
Of what is important.
It’s omission
leaves barren
The plains of thought
And heart
Which only thrive
Behind the mind’s eye,
An ocean of waving grass
Cut before the
Purples of autumn
Can grace its millions of
Slim and willowy
Stems.
Categories: Poetry