700 Times Poem by Phil Soar

And so I reach 700 moments of lunar madness
So many words,
Written for no other reason than just making the reader think
Sometimes provoking a reply
Knowing I have touched just one person
Is enough to keep me writing
Thinking
Making up nonsense and laughing
Writing from the heart and crying at the result
Sometimes even touching me with it's simplicity
My moon is my controller
There is no doubt
And whether it is weak or strong
The words will come and I will move on
Once written
Almost forgotten
But resting here, to be recalled when needed