Blocked.
My pen is stalled on paper,
Halted in mid-sentence.
I search my brain for the next word,
But there is nothing.
I look out the window,
Trying to see if anything comes to me,
A memory,
A current event,
But like a tree taken by winter,
My mind is barren.
A songbird always finds the perfect note,
A dolphin always finds the perfect wave,
Yet I cannot find the perfect word.
Copyright © Brittaney Clipson | Year Posted 2007
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