What’s next?
I know not what’s next for me yet trembling does buss like a bee. There’s nothing more, to accomplish , From a line, alike bait, I hang like fish ; Hopes decreased ,no reasons are left No path further to tred ,all plans bereft; I wonder why then these breaths are left When weave has no place for warp or weft; Dawn comes in, sunset drive day out; My eyes wander through sky’s sprout; Drained is water leaving a dry spout ! Empty handed return to odd thoughts Fruitlessly this mind every day sorts My tummy demands,food repeatedly Wondering what …