The movement of musings
Do they grow legs and stride
like a bipedal organism?
The happy thoughts
in a three-piece suit striding gaily
for an afternoon walk
in the park whilst twirling a cane
and tipping his hat to the old ladies.
And what about the dark thoughts?
Creeping along like a slug,
leaving a trail of slime as a reminder.
Or perhaps they scuttle about
like a centipede on a grimy tile floor?
Perhaps those are the wandering thoughts
Not necessarily scuttling towards
something but just trying to get away
The thoughts of love
skipping through flowers.
The depressing thoughts
with head down,
hands shoved in pockets,
Thoughts of panic,
pacing in circles,
All of these thoughts
wandering inside your head,
while your chin rests on your hand,