Poem-A-Day: Day 51

Solemn Maniacal

deep in the heart of solemn silence
sits a waiting rumination,
patient and penitent,
laughing sweetly on the inside.

and as the scent permeates
the callow sweeping darkness,
it stops briefly to listen to itself
and ponder.

the question isn’t what to do,
but what not to think about,
and simply crash face first
through the picture window.

it’s a never ending game
of haves, and never nots
passing by in idle desperation;
quiet grinning maniacal.