about solitude

where do you go
to find
your solitude

he thought about
his home
the clutter
of his rooms
the gentle and the fierce
demands
of belonging to a home
and to a family

he thought about
his garden
always in a state
of change
from the first sprouts
of springtime
to the autumn decays

winter sleeping

he thought about
the sky above
the vast expanse of it

of cloud
of blue
of sun and moon

day time and night time

he thought about
a prison cell
enclosure
within walls
in light and dark and nothing else
but mind

turning over thoughts
and dreams

rehearsing
how to write them

he thought about
a weaving flame
wavering
like water running
up
a burning log

yellow blue
and dance
and dance

in answer
to a question asked

he thinks
it was a question
asked


© Frank Prem, 2017

June 2017 Poem #25: go and pick (ordering alliums)

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