London Poem: Day 210

15 March

I write to fill in gaps,
To create scenes, and
Mark places I’ve
Never seen, or lived.
A whole world is created
With the brush of the hand,
And here, I’m satisfied.
But, what happens when
The imagination runs dry,
When the mind goes blank,
And my memory turns to a
Great, vast blankness?
Nothing.
There is only sitting and
Watching the world roll by,
Until there is no life left
To dream of.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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