Wandering alone on an empty page
A written word escapes my gaze.
A lonely word, a simple word, perhaps my name,
Perhaps in praise
Of my lonely thoughts, my simple thoughts.
Perhaps a simple, lowly daze.
This written word, an easy phrase,
Careless in its middle place.
Lazily drawn, hazily drawn. Easily forgotten, easily replaced, by other more substantial words,
But its history remains, and remembered in haste.
They speak in turn, they sing a tune
They dream a tone, or else preferred.
And forget the calm simplicity of a lonely written word.