Thursday, March 13, 2014

The Illiterate Poet

Just another writing exercise to track my progress...

A glimmer. Just a glimmer,
but I was promised more.
The reflection of car lights invade my ceiling.
Light patterns cross over my hands,
past my head, and then flicker away
leaving me in the dark once again.
I grasp at nothing, but to appease you
I continue to grasp
as if I've been led to decipher life's meaning from an illiterate poet.

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