Someday a Poem Will Come

by Grace DeLong

 

Running out the door  busy morning  A mug bumped off the shelf   pieces  Lying on the floor--   A poet comes,   pieces still scattered,  everywhere,  sweeps the shards  		 dumps them in the bin. Afternoon now,  the day has slowed  almost--   crawling--    The author stares at the empty spot                       like a book that was never                     returned, missing from the           library shelf.  Glares at the floor  where it fell    	  to its death.   The word smith  inspired as ever  jots notes  a poem may come in the evening.

 

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