I lessen my drama with words that I bury,
those syllables quick with anger have passed
chosen are letters that cannot be read fast.
The writing as well, is more narrow and tall.
Often pooling together; a lyrical fall.
I seek & I pause, for the idea to collect,
it's a trap for the moment in time, that I set.
With love, I arrange my paper and pen.
Oh the memory I have of third grade again;
practicing letters: the capital, lowers, the curved and the straight.
The forms, the plurals, over and over, small and great.
We'd summarize a tale, that someone wrote just to write
doesn't matter whether fiction or in real life.
But I have given up on weary, tired things today...
I'm ready to put sweet literary away.
So Goodnight to the countless words for the stars,
the color possibilities from cities afar,
Sleep well and Adieu; pull down the wood shades.
I'm sleepy, feels forever, I've got 'tired' in spades.
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