A Year of Poems – Day 10

It’s 11:27 in my mind
as I grasp for the words
that will let me go to sleep.

I construct houses from the
splinters of my life
piled high on my desk.

Bits come loose over time.
They’re added to the stack –
sharp relics piled out of sight.

The stack grows large with splintered thoughts
till my desk is covered
with the fragments of life.

Fragments saved for a future construction,
founded in old fissures of time
and crafted into something new.

“Behold I will make a new thing
from old memories redeemed,”
or so I said at 5:15.

Sometimes the poignant words, old memories,
or flashes of beauty from a dying sun
remain only splinters on a desk.

Leaving me alone with the words
of 11:27. Scribbled in the dark
with only the semblance of versification.

Splintered fragments
built into a shack
that let’s in the evening breeze..

I look out from my uneasy rest
at the splinters still on the desk,
caught in the moonlight,
waiting to be made new
if only I had the time.

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