So many times I wonder

Just what to do,

Exactly what I should say.

So many things change

Rearrange

Spill out onto the page.

It's as if I am reading a book

(What a novel idea!)

And just don't know where to look

To find

What I thought I had left behind.

So I think I will just have to excuse

This ruse

Of poetry.

It is all that is left of me.

08/27/2007

Posted on 08/27/2007
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