an ashtray,
an empty wine glass, two pens
sit on my desk.
mocking intonations
screaming from each.
canvas is blank.
still nothing done,
deadlines passed by.
wine glass shatters,
mock no more.
pounding temples and voices
aching to escape,
to be heard.
click.
start writing.
thirst of the pen
is quenched.
canvas overflows with
literary brushstrokes.
No comments:
Post a Comment