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These Days Don't Mean Dust To Me
(For a certain shade of artist)
While caged in blue, I ponder.
I simply cannot embrace the common,
The 9 to 5 hamster wheel,
Nor night's dim lit lovers.
I wake, I search,
Coffee, glasses, and an outdated paper.
The day governs me like most
Until the point of the Inspiration's arrival.
These days don't mean dust to me,
Soon I too will be swept under the carpet
Of green growing nature.
With no words, no lines, or poems,
And my headstone will be a detour sign to guide the Inspiration
To the doorstep of the next prisoner of blue.
Copyright ©2008 John Carroll Walls
poem
by
John Walls
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