Author: River Dixon/The Stories in Between

Inspiration strikes like a match In an afternoon monsoon microburst Of clichés, tired and trite The obligatory opening and closing Threadbare and uninspired A triple-dose

I’m still here I walk these halls A thousand times Waiting For a glimpse of you I watch Feel you dream of me Through restless

I felt it likely In this solitude My thoughts would Find their way Back to you Eventually Drifting on A lucid current Around and past

There comes a time, I think When perhaps, nothing is left No more pieces to reshape No more ashes to sift through No more walls

There are days When this world proves Too much for me I was stopped At a crosswalk To let a woman and her children cross

Your memory clings like a noose I so delicately tied myself In the early hours when sleep eludes Desperation sets in, like an old friend