Waiting (The Busker)

The poem comes when it comes
Like the wind
or a letter from a
far flung friend
It is a cobra coiled
in a basket
that no melody of mine
can coax to rise
yet I continue to play
A simple word busker
hoping to be paid

Author: OdinsBard

Writer, author, Navy vet, musician, intermittent mystic, old soul and practicing poet

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