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The End of a Poem
I sit upon my comfy chair
To type away my time
A press placed here, another there
Form sentences sublime
My fingers start to ache and creak
Yet still I try to find
The perfect words to add to it
A poem by the mind
I have words
But nothing’s working
They turn the rhymes to shambles
I try hard
And nothing’s changing
This thing just seems to ramble
This is a burden I shan’t bear
The poem is not worthy
I’ve typed so long the keys show wear
Although it makes me surly
Perhaps I’ll try another week
By then it should work, surely
Until then I think it fit
To end this poem early
I like this one! Keep
I like this one! Keep writing! ~xkissesx
"For ever on resounding, and knowing nought of time, our laws but catch the music of its eternal chime" - It Sounds Along the Ages by William Channing Gannett