Baskets Of Woolen Thoughts Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Time is running out and I try to scamper after it, but it's of no use or possible purpose to hold on to it.
All logic stores itself in baskets of woolen thoughts, giving up contents forever, presenting itself in explicit detail over dinners late at night.
Wailing temporarily over silent sonatas and grievous etudes held in check, yet overpowering every thought and pushing it forward to be used in the next literate endeavor.