Unable to Say Why
By: M. MacMinn
My eyes are not open
My mind, not switched on
My body, draped with clothing
My belly, full with breakfast
My thoughts are fluttered from the night before
How such fun turned so poorly upon confession
A notion hard to hear
playfulness forgotten and left
as quickly as it began
Absent in the daylight
vanished in the shine of a beautiful day
The air as cool as my heart
The street as empty as my compassion
and just as unable to explain
You are thinking about this incorrectly
though, I am unable to say why
www.markmacminn.com
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