Imagine that, I’ve nothing to write.
I got up early and stayed up all night.
So I’ll make something up, if that’s OK.
I’ll probably live it some other day.
It could be happy or it could be sad.
It could be of some old adventure had.
I’m sure there’ll be others and why not.
Though most quite small, I’ve had a lot.
Perhaps a poet imagined that lives on a hill.
They’ll watch the sunrise and do what they will.
That might be good for a poem or two,
or maybe a love sonnet, maybe a few.
With these pages hands turned with time,
each face a story, each await their rhyme.
Each chapter has its title, the next to depend.
Tho thy tome grows heavy, I wish it no end.
I’ll imagine a tomorrow when something’s to write.
I’ll get up early and stay up all night.
A pad in lap a hand set free.
A mind wanders for words to see.
Emotions enhanced, troubles relieved.
Time unconditional, imagination believed.
Notes of nowhere, deciphering dared.
Scribbles scrawl, reluctance repaired.
Visions doodle in a borderless plane.
Consumed is all in a leaderless reign.
In this instant our day’s to start.
The sun rises with imagination’s art.
Canvases unfurl forever changing.
Changes unfurl with minds raging.
Heads spin to lust and learn.
And the ageless age with every turn.
It’s time itself telling time.
By degree our world’s a chime.
A brushes stroke and all’s made right.
Then our sun will rise on another’s night.
Free is what we all want to be.
A future’s what we want to see.
Imagination’s what we want it to be.
Dreams are what we choose to see.
Reality is what happens to be.
We are what is our reality.
Most lives similar,
it’s how the stories are told,
that sets them apart.
Ships a pair moors by night.
Each’s a vision of the others light.
Tides are changing for me and you.
To time’s beyond when waves are few.
We each of passion, both pursuing free.
Findings shared, shared passionately.
An end to this poem, I have none or care.
For a future imagined is not really there.
does not affect the future.
It is the future.