1/Jan/2021
Here I try again,
I stand before a blank page, I stand
intimidated by the passing hours, little by little
I feel as though I am waning
but the last thing I am is wavering, I would
shake my head, roll my eyes, move my brows
but here I stand, and here I try again
picking up my colorful pens,
making them dance, one word at a time,
let the inks bleed, let it spill out,
let me stand here and talk with my mind
let this mind wander on its own feet
and just wait until
we meet again at the local bookstore
I'll be there, on the best-selling section,
waiting.
















