Angel of the Morning

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Angel of the Morning

By Kira A. Moore

 

Let the music play. That scratched old 45,

Forgotten so long in the closet,

“Angel of the Morning”

Through tinny Radio Shack speakers,

 

When did we hear it last?

That lazy August afternoon,

In your attic bedroom,

Stale and sweaty in the heat,

 

Though we didn’t notice,

As long as the music played.

The world outside your window

Forgotten .

Struggles of A Dreamer

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Struggles of A Dreamer

By Kira A. Moore

 

 

Try to get words from imagination

to hand, a pictured promise,

Of delightful prose or witty

fiction.

The conversations scroll past

my minds eye, then vanish

into mental ether, lost

to the disconnect.

Where lies that broken

link in the chain of

creativity? Just blame

the writing gremlins,

Who, giggling and laughing,

seek to disrupt and upset

this poor soul who seeks

to put thought to paper.