Commodores Of Times Meanwhile Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Why love is always cornered out
To somewhere no one knows
My daydreams are inside me
Showing me ways I didn't see
Residents of cold touch slumber
The rivers of my hold on themes
All that is now and then forgotten
But still is all there inside me

I have always felt I couldn't afford
This affection to know a feeling
For it's something I don't know
Just broken stones and disencumber
Pictures of people are everywhere
Just albums apart or distances away
Though I am outnumbered by a single
None of any emotion residence

Like the wind that blows around
I am a wander inside my thoughts
Finding the silences to nowhere
The commodores of times meanwhile