Untitled 3

Somany things to write,

not sure where to start.

It's like a swirling pool,

that fogs around the roots.

I guess I need to lift this lid,

and peel the layers of my mind.

Focus on each one and just unwind.

I am sorry if this means nothing,

and just a bunch of words,

As my finger tips do all the talking,

it releases the void I feel.

When each word be spoken,

like fishing and casting out the reel.

As for the patience of waiting,

to catch that very thought,

it's like a flling in your spirit

like the fish that has been caught.

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birth of a poem