The Coffe House Muse

The spoon tinkles against cheap china

stirring my coffee kaleidoscope

along with my thoughts.

A milky reflection

not giving me a clue

The stormy faces of the lunch crowd

won't spare a question

What am I to do

in this busy world

of theirs?

That sweet voice to bitter words

Taste the wandering poets words,

so thick and heavy with

rhyme with no reason

and laced to the edge with cantering flow.

Spin the dreamers web

until the voice is but a sound.

Round and round until the fire dies.

Like what could have been,

it was all just smoke in the end.

Bandages

Bandages.

Covering arm to arm,

leg to leg,

the wounds I have tolerated

from walking in the wilderness since you came back.

Black and blue black and blue

covering the heart we once knew.

Thoughts?

Is it possible to just let all my thoughts
Drain away?
Drain right out of my head,
tucked away, somewhere safe
until I need them again.
Sometimes, I think my head is too small
for all these thoughts.
Sometimes, too big.
Thoughts.
All they seem to do is
swirl round and round.
They keep me up in the dead of night,
keep me away
smack dab in the middle of an afternoon.
Swimming around,
confined to the mind
these thoughts
make up their own relevance,
seek no reward for what they conjure,
yet flourish in existence.
Don’t you wish you could just
drain away a thought or two?