Asleep...

Gliding,
Sliding,
Abiding in Peace

Driftingly,
Swiftly,
Fleetly release.

This the time
this is the place
where time will stand still
and stops the pace.

Writing...

It runs like blood,
traveling through my veins;
leaking from the pen tip
on the paper leaving stains.

Sentences they form.
Plots they make.
Structure is born.
Characters it creates

Love is made.
Tradgedy's just there.
Comedy is happy.
Contemptness-it tears.

The power it holds,
people are swayed;
Nothing can break it.
Their own thoughts are frayed.

Fiction's the world.
Literal it's not,
but people are lost
and caught up in thought.

"Come back to reality,"
I call and I plead,
but nothing is shown
from my small little dead.

In a fantasy they live
nothing can help it.
They that are lost
can never hope to quit.

Change...

I think of it as needed
I know it will be there
Just waiting unabated
An annoying strand of hair.

It never seems to leave
and it never seems to stay
But waits around the corner
for my life to come its way.

It jumps out unexpected
but always known it is.

Eventually it goes away
leaving you in patterns
but then it comes and shows its face
creating a life that's tattered.

You sew and mend the strands that fall
you do all that you can
to put yourself on track again
and create anew: a plan.