I had some good poems
They were written in my head
I awoke in the morning
Only to find the poems were quite dead.
I frowned down upon them
And sadly shook my head,
You naughty little things
How could you show up so very dead?
They still wouldn’t budge, not even a bit
Crying, sighing, they still remained dead
So I stopped what I was doing
And to the light I lifted my head.
“Forgive me great universe
These ones wound up being dead”
I prayed over and over again
A chant forming in my head.
And then I let them go
Farewell poems leaving space inside my head
Searching for those new kind words
Having finally let go of you, dear departed dead.