Twiddling My Thoughts Poem by Herman Hoyte

Its times like this
where I'd prove I exist,
and question common sense.

Or, count the Stars,
and dream of Mars,
and the conflicts he invents.

Its times like this
where I'd use to sit
for hours debating with the sun.

I'd twiddle my thoughts,
and wrestle my thumbs,
Simply to pass the time.

But now, all I must do
is think of you,
and your face calms my mind.

You take the old chaotic thinker,
and rest him in the shade of pine.
There I can rest, peacefully,
for hours at a time.