Conversation

A shallow breath,
Perhaps another.
How close to death
Dear, sweet brother?

Bizarre thoughts
For a morning,
Of graveyard plots...
Perhaps a warning?

Maybe only maudlin
Rhyme-filled ideas
As I sit dawdlin'; my
Mind sets free; as

One word flows out
And another one comes;
So full of weird doubt
My psyche hums.

Turn attention away
To ideas more happy,
To dawn and bright day
Not midnight, all crappy.

Get the car washed.
Buy some new clothes.
Dark rhymes, be quashed!
Write some bright prose.