A poem is interrupting my thoughts
A poem is knocking on the door
of my mind.
A poem wants to give voice
NOW
It wants to speak about
How I miss myself
My own company
Solitude is golden
but it has been too long
to follow my own current
to float with arms outstretched
to let momentum of my stream carry me.
I miss my own company.
Should I mark on my calendar
on certain days to do nothing?
and X-out those days for intruders?
Missing time to just float
on my own stream?
My own rhythm?
My own spontaneity?
My own unchartered movement?
I’m over peopleized
I need a date with myself
Just myself alone.