I lay me down at night,
there's more to do,
this a brief respite
before another busy day.
The last week of the triple event
of subbing, retailing and writing,
Subbing in its final days,
retail diminishing till the fall,
yet the bills remain constant,
the little fixed income has farther to go,
spreading it amongst the many
asking for the same monthly checks.
The house says clean me,
the full grown dust bunnies are ready to be swept away,
the clothes in piles say hang me, fold me,
the bed yells find me,
under all these unorganized pages of poetry,
which say file me,
and last but most important,
the words in my head say
let me out, write me, express me,
make me into a poem.
|mood board in need of fresh inspiration|