Some days the poetry is harder to find.
Too much machine, not enough imagination.
Too much noise, not enough solitude.
Too many worries, not enough peace.
The older I get, the more immersed I become,
the harder it is to pluck lyrics from the sky.
And I question my existence.
***
Nichole
Jan 10, 2014
Tomorrow will bring answers, surely. It’s why we keep going.
Also, I like your poetry as much as your prose.