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Poem

Is my notepad a blank space,
canvass or image-ridden spot,
thoughts of aqua bead elation,
mesmerise beyond the fence,
they jump gaudy traffic lights,
but runaway relish cuts wild shape,
when fantasy and environment,
a seamless transit might appear,
notions spiral in frothy oceans,
as time a spring time winger,
unfolds, unveils, unfurls,
its unique ruby nugget chain,
a doorway widens wondrous wares,
I am wide awake to treasures,
set on blaze by rapid prompt,
pencils, crayons, brushes lie down,
to  attention writer’s tools,
and a dab of paint on rim,
I’m this usher pulsing conduit,
verily at the cusp of opus,
that has a charging current,
to be found heartily exuded,
must this inbred dalliance,
count for that mint broadside,
as I dwell behind an urban hedge,
the water of wafer thin wetness,
I peer at whilst straying lazily,
to pick up the city rumble,
to avoid that red blush tumble,
into pop up pool endowed,
with variegated plant life enshroud,
frangipani,  star jasmine, golden cane palm,
exotic edge encircled feast,
schools of fish in  wagtail swarm,
aquarium exhibit for marine throng,
fascinated by the plethora of genus,
and mindful of early dawn tread,,
figment is that candle to nourish,
in saliva swirl anticipation ahead,
that bright mark one might conjure,
as the verse weaver weighing contour,
synonym, wordplay, idiom equivalent,
sudden splash of ink,
indignant worst hand scribble,
gathering, assembling, unifying,
morning hours a speedy sequence,
noonday intermission, afternoon stretch,
evening  getting close,
one on a journey might amass,
inspired phrases for posterity,
I wonder has my time come or gone

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