Writing

W ords

R un helter-skelter round my brain like eager raindrops that

I nvade the dried-up wells of subliminal id.

T hey gather, rise and overspill, subsiding as they diffuse

I n myriad rivulets across the fractured channels of reflection to

N ourish, quench and be siphoned up at last into a 

G roundburst of breathless cohesion.

© Sheila Rogers
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