Circles in the Sand

Deadlines loom like distant storms,

and here I am again, crumpling paper,

starting over yet another story, the words

haunting me like old acquaintances.

Each click of my keyboard brings echoes

of my own dread, it’s a wheel in the mud,

spinning, spinning, until I forget what road.

I stare at half-formed thoughts and wonder,

was it inspiration or fear that I chased?

A calendar page flips; every day slides by—

a procession of undone tasks, dimly lit,

while I circle back like water in the sink,

a loop I can’t seem to break out of.