For The Moment

The warmth of the sun
slowly moved through the room,
this chamber smells of heat.

Emotions pine,
as time passes
with each dying breath
of the sun’s amber glow. 
My time is that
like sands in an hourglass
smoothly sifting through its hole.

Mingling poetry
with thoughts
and ink smears
dripping with plots.

Aw yes, with a poetic high
I give off a sigh.

My ink spilt and
I became like a wonded animal,
I became wild
and ragged
in my deep thoughts.


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