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Reoccurred
Today my pen had long gestures
The strokes carried no comfort
Lost, forever in the sea of anything
Wishing to be found once more.
The cold frolics made for good company
Resting with good measurement
Minding the fact of sore feet from battered beaches
Warzones of plans once had.
They will be made again.
I prop my head on my fist
To dream of the day that will come
Where my prince will sweep me
Not off my feet
But from my heart.
It is a pipe dream made but of glass.
Slumber awaits once more
To remind me of what I come to know
And what I will find again
Once my eyes seek dawn
Through half drawn curtains to a world that beckons me.
