Monday, November 16, 2020

Block . . .

Here, nothing but time
On my dirty hands, to no
No avail.
Try as hard I might,
Pour-ing every ounce of 
My energy 
Into a song,
The only thing I can do for you.
Something is wrong.
Barely a note breaking through.
Hardly a clue.
Dry as a well.
Arid as the desert 
I seem to be.
When will it end?
We will see

What do you think? Tell me at

Other Ray Jozwiak Offerings