Poem – What’s late

Have you ever sat on the shower floor
with eyes squinted, yet watching intently
the random gaps in water as it surrounds
your feet and runs toward, and then down
the drain? Knowing you have work to do,
but soaking in the freedom of thought while
the water pours down onto the back of your
neck; you push further and now you are late.
You no longer care. The moment with your
thoughts under the shower watching the
flowing water around your body outweighs
the friction you may cause for beingĀ late;
the moment is yours, along with your musings,
and most of all, your life is your own.

-M. Taggart

poem – to become

Oh yes- It does roam-
It does wander-

Who am I to become in the way-
Freedom is an un-strangulation of thought
when held in place-

Silent is the coming of my soul-
I can fall asleep knowing



-M. Taggart copyright 2017
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