2009-03-09

Writing Journal (Day 13)

Not much inspiration behind this one. I came home from Family Home Evening, realized I hadn't eaten anything since 2:00, nor had I written a poem yet.

Waffle
The waffle so warm
Between my fingers
Burns the skin of my teeth.

I am standing in the kitchen,
Watching myself eat,
Wishing today was tomorrow.

Eventually, my bed doth call.
And when it does,
I'll solemnly give it heed.

Away to never-slumber-land
I readily will fly.
Thinking if only, if only,
And always asking why.

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