Somany things to write,
not sure where to start.
It's like a swirling pool,
that fogs around the roots.
I guess I need to lift this lid,
and peel the layers of my mind.
Focus on each one and just unwind.
I am sorry if this means nothing,
and just a bunch of words,
As my finger tips do all the talking,
it releases the void I feel.
When each word be spoken,
like fishing and casting out the reel.
As for the patience of waiting,
to catch that very thought,
it's like a flling in your spirit
like the fish that has been caught.
birth of a poem
ron parrish