Masterpiece
As I finish my day
with a hot cup of chai,
eyes slightly heavy
and yawning a sigh,
I ponder my thoughts
hoping for a last write
before I give in
and I call it a night.
A brief sense of urgency
catches my breath.
What if tomorrow
is fated my death?
I still haven't written
that one masterpiece,
fulfilling my life
so to die with a peace.
I'm still wide awake
though I can't believe how.
This yearning consumes
every part of me now.
Even when working
I'm watching the time,
searching my mind
for a meaningful rhyme.
I have to give up now,
It's getting too late.
My coveted masterpiece
just has to wait.
I say to myself,
"There's always tomorrow"
but still I can't help
feeling whispers of sorrow.
Maybe someday,
if I sort them all out,
the words of my masterpiece
might come about,
one of these nights
as my day says goodbye,
while I sit and enjoy
one more hot cup of chai.
-Jeannie Minor
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
