AFTER WEEKS I'M GIVING IN

TO THIS RHYME I'M LIVING IN

Photo by Ingmar on Unsplash

Something wanted to be told, I didn’t know what at the time, but all the undiscovered words were crowding in a shapeless line, impatient to be found. I needed sleep, turned out the light, humming an old familiar song, lyrics I’d once sung were gone, melody disappeared at dawn but I slept sweet and long.

Sometimes I can see a tree, designed by just the melody, the humming begins sweet and low, the rising trunk begins to grow, the humming turns both left and right, green leafy branches fill the night and while I sleep the tree lives on.

It wants to be a poem tonight, in spite of what I want to write, some grown-up prose that doesn’t rhyme, fitting from someone in her prime, but there’s nothing I can do, I have no spell, to way to cast it, the words above, a song I love, make it crystal clear, as for my prime? I’m past it.