Scrolling down only to scroll back up,
life, it seems, is rolling your eyes at the
pasture of dreams but not grazing,
only joining the seams where your gaze
sits light on the sights that you see, the
nights where you’ve been with those queens
of desires, the lit and the unquenching of fires,
the needs, oh desires, the wires you’ve walked on
the wanting you’ve longed for
the songs that they’ve written,
the times you’ve been bitten
by the lovebug,
hugz to you all.
© 2020, John Smallshaw.