Ceenoa

I haven’t written much,
in such a long, long time,
I am not sure that I remember,
how to craft a rhyme.

Is it the rhythm of the words,
that lulls your brain to sleep,
that allows the nonesense that I write,
to not cause you to weep?

It’s like a swaying dance,
a dangle and a dip,
then a twirl around the floor,
being careful not to slip.

The pattern starts to form,
and words slowly start to flow,
it doesn’t have to make much sense,
as by now you surely know.

It’s the music that’s not played,
that lingers in the soul,
words implied, not spoken,
a simple, easy goal.

Tonight I listened to the rhythm,
I danced a little bit,
it’s no great piece of literature,
but a least I didn’t sit,

this
one
out.

© ceenoa