Staring at the page set before me,
My meandering mind is drowsy,
Each click of the keys paints a picture,
Swirling thoughts of this and that,
Can these thoughts convey a soul?
Or will they lie flat as the page before me?
Fingers are pulsing a rhythmic thought,
Triggering memories of days gone by,
Skipping through faded wonder,
From childhood to the adult
Briefly catching a moment in time
This Blank Page then comes alive.
Soliciting emotions from the reader.
Reaching for that moment which gives a sigh.
Read and weep braking into a laugh
That is the hope of the writer’s craft.