Work was so stressful that I decided to take a walk through Central Park before getting on the train to go home. It was well worth it because I came upon this lovely scene. Not having a walkman inspired me to turn my thoughts into stories and suddenly the words to poem began to take shape. Words of a living poem that has yet to be concluded are harder to capture.
So the words, phrases, & thoughts were being churned and turned, like butter in the making, as I worked the poem in my head. The downside to listening to music all the time is that snippets of lyrics tend to sneak in to the poem, sending me back to the drawing board. Which means I need to have another chat with my muse.
Crossposted at Letters from NYC