Hopefully for the better. It's hard for me to declare a poem finished.
Is a work of art ever done?
A voice keeps speaking--so I listen.
For instance, tonight after a very hot day in this neck of the woods, and the AC not working so well:
as if all is well.
Sun heats the dark roofs gray.
Wind stopped by awfull thoughts.
Road tar melts. Pavement rocks.
I plod with tired feet
and then remember what I forgot:
All is well
Who knows, I may delete it after a few more reads, if attempts at editing doesn't suit me. What do you think??