Drained
I have no words this sleepy night
that fill my tongue with flair
my soggy brain's not sharp or bright
more just supports my hair.
The burning flame that fuels the pen
to scribe the shooting stars
has dwindled down to ash again
to leave block's ugly scar.
A good night's rest, my fondest wish
and what will fill the well
with swirling, eager, wordy fish
(the clever ones- no smell).
Copyright © Kris Walters | Year Posted 2011
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