My brain scampers
I drift in and out of consciousness
How many poems
Are written half asleep
Or half aware
My brain swirls
Dancing with words
Little partners
That drift in and out
Of my private seduction
My brain tries to focus
I am at it’s mercy
It drifts, sways, swirls
It scampers
It seduces
I am at the mercy of the poem
Your poem flow is lovely. It resonates with truth on what draws many of us to the poetry marathon (or half) — I am at the mercy of the poem – such a lovely end!
Thank you!