High Noon Tea – A Poem.

Sometimes the words need to flow on paper with black ink.

Sometimes your mind needs room to grow in real estate of a blank white sheet.

Sections of your day are defined by the life that you neat.

People, we forget as time lapses on repeat.

Variables sway
In and out of focus.
Variables they stay
Only close when you find their purpose.

 

word flow at high noon tea. .

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