POETRY

And So I Write

down

words
that have tumbled over
the edge
of a mind too crowded

crashing like boulders
sometimes
pouring hot
like lava even
from the arenal
then again
silently gently
swaying
falling with the last leaf
of autumn
so quiet
you never even heard
winter has come...

and in time
my guitar picks up
the notes

to the words.