staring at a blank notebook page
this blank screen glowing back at me
processing it all with this fallow mind
this dormant marooned soul
waiting...
moist ideas evaporate in a mist
might have caught just a glimpse
might have jotted something down
that might have become a poem or three
maybe...
the world turned cold finally
the globally warm kind that won't last
while wars stay unfairly hot and afar
and social media plods confusingly along
this strange new normal...
nothing at all to preach or rant on
nothing - the difference it would make
nothing almost any of us could do
but for some fleeting reveries or dreams
nothing...
