I wrote a little poem about the sharpness of light in water and ice, but I couldnât be bothered to write it out.
Day 45 of 200 days of writing
It flipped through my head while I ignored the pushing, the screaming, the twisting of my fingers into claws for a pen. There was screaming in my head, demanding that I simply roll over from my prone position on my bed and write the simple lines down.
They sounded new and different, those lines. I was trying to talk about the shining reflections of the sun off water or refracted through ice in a way that no writer had done before.Â
And Iâd done it.Â
I wrote it.
Five simple lines that could have been more, but encapsulated the feeling, the masochistic desire to watch the waves even though the light blinds you; to look directly into the reflection of the sun on the ice as if it will reflect back a different world.Â
But I didnât write them down, and I canât remember them now.Â
I am just left with their afterimage burned into my eyes with fuzzy edges and no clear definition, and the desire to see the sea.
Prompt - a missed opportunity
Photo by Tyrone Sanders on Unsplash
Hello,
Thanks for coming around to read day 45 of 200 days of writing.
I will be honest, I wrote this a while ago. I have a lot I need to do before the weekend, so I am not sure how much time I will have to write so I may have to recycle some more pieces or post just prompts for the next couple of days.
I hope your writing is going well.
I wish I could remember the little poem I wrote in my head that day.
It will come back or it won't, not much I can do about it now, except write.
Happy writing, see you tomorrow.
