Procrastination
I haunt
pages,
stand
around, loitering,
stare at
empty words,
an
interesting nothing.
Lines and
lines
drawn like
parallel gates
or solitary
paths
pointing to
a wisdom
unwritten
here.
I loiter.
The word is
small
but spreads
its ending,
seeps into
the margins
where it
all hides,
these
untold stories
and spectacular
insights
waiting to
be told
trapped in
the fold.
Copyright
Vickie Johnstone, November 20, 2020
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