My thoughts are always floating
Like different colored helium balloons
In the space within my mind
Sometimes jumbled up
Sometimes close together
Sometimes too much
Sometimes I can’t find the right words
And I don’t know what to say
Like trying to pull a single string
From a ball of knots
then sometimes I find too many
Other times they’re organized
And I know exactly where they go
As if I’m sorting books on a library shelf
They can be smooth and precise
Like skipping stones
Fly easily across a lake
Sometimes they come too fast
And bubble up like a fountain
Or spill over like a waterfall
They can shoot like rockets back and forth
And I don’t have time to get one idea out
Before the next comes falling forward
With more force than a bowling ball
And sometimes in the dark nights,
Propped up against my pillow,
They get a long deserved break
And as they settle like sand to the bottom
Of a calm pond
I drift off to sleep.
Fulmore
8th