I look around at my desk.
Incomplete is its theme.
A plant recovering from overwatering.
An orange waiting to be eaten.
Papers needing to be filed.
Pictures daring to be taken.
Unread books due to be returned.
Letters that have yet to be written.
Emails still unsent.
Time poorly spent.
But here I am doing the best thing I could
for myself, my being, and my writing.
I look around at my desk
And I smile at the poem I just
completed.
Incomplete is its theme.
A plant recovering from overwatering.
An orange waiting to be eaten.
Papers needing to be filed.
Pictures daring to be taken.
Unread books due to be returned.
Letters that have yet to be written.
Emails still unsent.
Time poorly spent.
But here I am doing the best thing I could
for myself, my being, and my writing.
I look around at my desk
And I smile at the poem I just
completed.
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