XANAX
a baby blue breeze,
gently slows the tides within,
conflict turns into a cushion,
the anger into an arm chair,
the traffic separates while the road grows wider,
the domestic dispute in the apartment above evolves into,
a puddle of smothered voice
a moping bathrobe drags behind procrastinated thought,
sleep walking words from others hover outside the margins of concern,
dims down the spot light,
allowing a cradled palm of tea lights to show the way,
shadows lose their rigid outline,
a once sense of strict accuracy, now a tourist guide with no map,
an afghan over the chill,
a mitten over the frostbite,
the search for the answer forgets the question,
a swing set in slow motion,
moist chips misplacing crunch,
ginger ale abandons bubbles so not to bother with a hiccup,
scattered absent tension delivered,
a soft moon winks at noon,
rest is home now,
you're welcome to do nothing
Poem by : Bryan Matthew Boutwell at Livefiction.net
