A Circular Tree

Very often I 
mess my thoughts up 
As at the moment 
I believe I am a circular tree 
trying to offer shadow 
An umbrella  the birds 
inside me asking for 
but to no avail 
Whenever I attempt at 
the  sun dims 
I am afraid 
if it's dimmer 
All my dreams will die

No dreams no coffee cups 
for the brown flour sticks 
to sink 

No further 
I am running out of
my turquoise ink
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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