I forgot when I actually wrote this poem. I found this piece while rummaging through one my many diaries. I think I should post it just for the sake of documentation. Unfortunately, I did not name the original poem. So, maybe I will cook a name up after I am done typing the poem. Additionally, I didn’t even jot the date down. Silly me!
It’s been days, I have written.
Pillows flared, bed clothes beaten.
Cobwebs formed on distant ceiling.
How am I to tell my feeling?
I take this pen and diary to write.
Mind numb; thoughts unbright.
Wrong words fill up the pages.
I feel like small birds in cages.
When will this isolation cease?
Open the window; let in the breeze.
The wind shall take my breath away.
The clouds shan’t make my room more grey.
The sun shall shine and inspire me.
All my annoying thoughts shall flee.
I shall fill pages anew.
Let’s start with the morning dew.
