Thinkers

Welive. We breathe, We drink. We think,
and there's where the trouble lies.
Oh to turn off this brain of mine
and close these tired eyers.

I could not count the thousands of thoughts
that pop up in my head.
And between these thoughts are musical sounds
that surface while in bed.

I need to meditate and think of my breath
but I find it hard to do.
I envy the ones that can do this.
I wish I could do it too.

I think that thinkers are born this way.
There I go thinking again.
I'm starting to wonder 'Is this a female thing? '
for the sleepers are mostly men.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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