I felt like waxing poetic today, so here goes:
Yeah. I got nothing.
Why is it when I am nowhere near my computer, I can think of a million poetic thoughts, but as soon as I sit down with my keyboard, all poetic thoughts fly from me? Let’s try again:
I am a like lonely leaf, blowing along a deserted street.
Violently I am blown,
This way and that,
Until I am so far from where I started as to have no recognition of it.
I don’t want to repeat it, so I must remember.
I must instead be a tree,
Steady and strong.
A mother with roots, not a flailing leaf,
Not a child.
A strong woman.