planes that fly away from me
as the sun leaves my sky
dont know what i want to be
when i finally grow up
who was it who made me
one day at a time
back in the good old days
before my nights had eyes
im not sure i know me
as well as i know you
theres too much
i dont want to see
how my mirrors need cleaning
someday i’ll be all gone
vacant from my body envelope
just floating on the ether
waiting for time to end
’til then i’ll just float
like a pencil in a spa
waiting for my next words
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: Pencil in a Spa (Lewisburg, 2020)
John David Higham 