The Confluence
Penning a few words may seem
easy as first, but as time wears
on you like an old coat,
other things get in the way
of writing, of flopping words
on the page or even napkins.
When the muse is around,
they sprint on to the page,
look around for their companions
to join them in sentences
and paragraphs and maybe
even poems, the good ones,
that seep metaphors and similes
and sometimes meanings
from the heart. Then again,
one needs only to breathe
more time into the schedule,
maybe understand that words
can be both intoxicating and soothing
simultaneously just like laughter and life,
confluencing like the Snake and the Clearwater.
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