Still I Sit Here Staring
Still I sit here staring
Sitting there in open form…breathing,
savoring a moment that claims the eyes
Collecting thoughts in a simmering row
of pasted visions on the curtains of a smile…
claiming nothing out of the sort
~fingers dance the moonlight
along a sleepless trail
pecking seems the order
as endings never fail~
Glowing like an ember fused,
beneath a mantle trimmed and shorn
Hidden in the lonely darkness
once presented in a cluttered dream
of pine cone cushions
and wicker trimmed French kisses
~words of stained glass meanings
in shadows on the pew
shaped to form the pattern
as light evades the view~
Groans of indecision
plague this page, smudged and weary,
scribble in fury and folded neatly
Edges meet in distracting lines
on crossword clues reaching down
across the face of what I have done
~ink it merely scratches
the surface of the night
still I sit here staring
with nothing left to write~
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2019
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