Quarantine Poetry Day 45-Garden Of Misspoken Ideas

Tingling upon the tongue

Words find a way of slipping out

Falling on the ground

And here in the garden

They sprout alive

Giant bulbous structures

Stretching up, up, up to the sky

Clogging up the clear skies

So it feels overcast all the time

And these misplaced thoughts

Gather in bunches, clumping

Around the entrance ways

And like sneezes, they burst

Spread, these weeds

Of disheveled words

And when you are in the garden

Of misspoken ideas

You can be lost for hours

Trying to remember your name

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