Poem I Wrote In The Airport
I found this on a notepad when I cleaned out my trunk this weekend; I wrote it while I was waiting in the airport to go to Tennessee this past November:
The Call Of Servitude
Wonder,
Where words fall,
Catapult over streams,
So delicious and triple dropped.
Sadly,
Sweetly they crawl,
Lurch from one to the next,
Desperate to find a crevice of hope,
A spring of life to sustain them,
Through the bitter cold.
I laugh,
At these insinuations of dreams and love,
As I laugh at hope.
But I lick the colors of everything,
Longing for all that I turn away.
Critical moments abound,
I criticize them longingly,
Watch them pass.
Not forgetting the feel of leather on your lap,
The call of servitude.
Forgetting only saddening times,
And my own dismay.