Restless

 Sometimes restlessness leaves your mind and finds its way to your fingers.

Restless

There are times when very late at night

I sit staring at the page of white

Waiting impatiently for something to write

With a mind too restless to fight

 

In the distance, I hear the whistle of the train

Of the thoughts that amble through my brain

From the life-changing to the very inane

Passengers boarding and deboarding in the rain

It does no benefit to attempt to sleep

Thoughts have been planted, waiting to reap

Sorting through, finding what to toss and what to keep

Even those, eventually, cast onto the junk heap

The harvester makes its cutting pass

Everything falls, both flower and grass

Every word and syllable that doth sleep surpass

Gathered and bundled into thinking’s morass

Eventually, the fervor begins to cool

Words begin to drown in exhaustion’s pool

Dying ignominiously in a good writer’s drool

Some escaping to become the words of a fool

 

Such are the anthems of the restless

The diatribes of the blest-less

The ramblings of the success-less

The poetry of the impress-less

 

Welcome

To Restless Flight 101

 

© Ron Simpson, Jr.