A Prelude Poem by Eloida Capuno

Life isn't a bed of roses
Who said it was
But when it becomes a rut
you still wonder why
And ask how it came to be
that everything changed
You no longer feel
enamored by the moon
And each morning a challenge
the possibilities no longer excites
You stare at a distance seeing
nothing but stare longer
You tell a friend you got busy
writing poetry
but the truth is there is
nothing to write
Gone are the days when
you ink just about every
thought that comesnto mind
So what is this phase of our
so called life
A prelude to hopelessness?