No More, No Less
Morning comes
these eyes too heavy to wake
not knowing did they even sleep
all night writing
of those lips
brushing gently across my cheeks
rough drafts no longer remembered
after the twenty-fourth toast to your kiss
this mind's amiss
the well's gone dry
and I'm parched
silence echos thru the stillness
as I keep on mouthing your name
too many days are wasted
waiting for the right one to come
let me be your moon
a reflection off you and your sun
what is, what was, what's done
no more, no less
nothing to expect
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2018
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