Some days everything I touch, I drop
onto a floor that’s not been mopped in weeks.
The words that yesterday flowed free today are stopped.
And I want to stop too, myself, and sleep.
This poem is the crust, these words I utter
The last scraping from the jar of peanut butter.
I see them slip, I try to catch, I miss them.
A bit of dirt is good for the immune system.
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I like this – made me laugh out loud – I said to myself – “that’s quite funny.” Imagine that. Anyway, thanks for the like re: Harper Lee – so sad…
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Nice to hear, thanks Owen. Yes, sad news about Harper Lee, her work touched so many.
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