Not Yet

Bone weary I walk toward

familiar sounds of lullabies

drifting away from an unknown

that feels just like home…

Hoping to finally hang the hat,

may be take a forever nap

But your strings still attached,

begin to tug on my heart

Calling me back for one more

adventure by your side.

So I tell the Angel who opened the door,

“Not yet my time.”

And smiling, I rush back to you,

waking up to your darling sight.

---

Woke up today to realize I had posted this poem on IG yesterday while I was half conscious and utterly exhausted. Re-read it and man, do I hate it! Forcing creativity never works with me but I did promise myself that I’ll write something, anything when my symptoms would flare up.

I guess someday I’ll look back on these shittiest of works and would feel a little less embarrassed for lack of any talent whatsoever for poetry or art of story telling. But hey, at least I did survive yesterday and for that alone I am mighty proud so I thought why keep the joy to myself. Why not share it with my three wonderful readers of this poetry blog?

So here you go, Reader. I hope you find enjoyment in this work as much as I did in hating it. 😁

© EntangledDesigns