by Carlton Johnson
Stopping in mid-sentence, he stared off in space, trying desperately
to find the words, the phrase, the simple sentence that he had just lost
hoping that it might alight on his shoulder like a ladybug or an oak leaf.
But no! it did not appear to him, not in the far off cumulus clouds which appeared
as though they could contain a library of congress of words. He prayed for rain. Nor did it appear to him from a sudden translated fragment from the cooing of the morning doves on the telephone line outside his window. Nothing! Finally, he not only had forgotten where he was going , he had also forgotten where he had been just moments before. He was now like the drowning man , lost at sea, no sign of land, arms flailing, gasping for air.
Carlton Johnson has worked in a number of different area but mostly concentrating on a variety of teaching math and science at middle, high school and community colleges. He loves poetry and enjoys having opportunities to read his poetry in public like at the 1st Mondays Poets Group. He is a recent transplant (5 years) to Florida from Baltimore