Lost Day

Sitting beneath a Willow tree, it's leafy fingers engulfing me;

I watch the time slip by like sand, falling through this author's hand.

A bird calls to me, saying Hi,and telling me he might drop by

for some conversation, then, he'll be flying off again.

What do you know? Why nothing at all;

it's hard to learn much, from a world so small.

Small-minded people, small-minded man,

from small-minded thinking is where I ran.

What do you want? It all I'm afraid.

Like doing nothing all day, but still getting paid.

I want to write stories that stretch the mind,

like losing a day you never could find.

I said goodbye and my friend flew away,

perhaps he went in search of that day.


I wrote this for a creative writing course in college...I've not written a poem since. Many stories, articles, and several  novels; but not a single poem. I'm not sure why, I love poetry, and this one I know so well I could recite it for a crowd (and I'm terrified of public speaking). When I read it or say it now, I feel as if I could have written it yesterday. It's timeless for me, which is not true of many other writings from my early years. What do you think? Should I keep this as my solitary poem or give it another go?

Thanks @therealpaul for giving me the knowledge on 100% power-ups.

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