Sitting here with pen in hand
Wondering where to start,
Killing time before I go,
Whittling on a stick.
Blocking out the blocking in,
Try to clear my mind.
Thoughtful in my reverie of
Peaceful days gone by.
Will the pages fill with ease
With muses from the heart?
Spill the ink onto the page.
Give a little kick.
Does the bastard steal my
thoughts
And leave me far behind?
Blown away by winsome words,
Left to wonder why.
Getting started is the key.
All the rest is flow.
How it gets onto the page
We may never know.
No comments:
Post a Comment