Outside Poetry

Cars riding by the house, as I sit outside and write. Writing down with pen and paper, ideas and thoughts together, to make my meaning of life become more real to me. Reading what I write after being done, I contemplate what I think I want. It never seems to be the same thing twice, so I continue to sit and write. One day when it all adds up and seems to make some sense, I'll know that I am finally done and write myself an exit poem, letting it sit upon a shelf to gather dust. As other poets come along and do the same thing I have done - only writing in their own words - which will be different than my own.