They lie discarded
Curling,
frayed
Choking the
pathways of my mind
Listless,
lifeless and inert
Moldering autumnal
thoughts
I scuff at them
To see if
from their scrunching,
Some brief creativity
may spark
But sighing
They crumble
and disintegrate
I’d like to
think
My thoughts
were bursting buds of
Inspiration
green
My
contemplations were
Of spring’s
strength and vigour
I’d even
settle
For ideas
of summer’s warmth
Yearning passion
Meditations
on
Sun’s fullness
and heat’s lust
Instead my
thoughts are weary
Damp and
dank
They lie, cluttered,
muddled
Leaves of fading
possibilities
Choking the
footpaths of my mind
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