The trouble with writing a poem a day is that most poems take more than a day – to brew, mature and be constructed. To be finished. So I have to present this first one of the week as just that – unfinished, unmatured, incomplete. For starters, I want to give it another stanza – probably at the beginning. Unfortunately, I ran out of time and inspiration today – that missing verse must emerge later. This is the first draft. There are bits I like, and bits I know need work.
It’s hard offering something that is unfinished for viewing, but I wrote this poem for the purpose of being today’s poem, so here it must be. All I ask is that readers respect its rawness. Every poem this week is likely to be a work in progress.
So, walk with me.