It Never Stops
That constant exercise within our head
Where ceaselessly we ponder-
But naught is ever said
Our soundless voice imprisoned
within the jailer mind
Knit picks, rehearses, warns,
and is with us all the time.
From the moment we awake at dawn,
Until shadows creep
across each darkened lawn
When finally, we seek our quiet
in the cave of sleep
Alas, to find that never-ending thinking
Crawls into the dreams we reap.
Copyright © Margaret Wade | Year Posted 2019
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