The Poem Not Written

Written by: Ash Mac

I sit at my desk contemplating my thought
Nothing will come; I’m becoming distraught
I’ve already stalled for an hour or more
Wait for much longer, I’ll be asleep on the floor!
But wait I must do for my brain is bone dry-
I look for amusement as the minutes skip by.
To interest my hands a piano appears;
The music that rises engrosses my ears.
My feet are too restless; I dance a short jig.
Soon after I’m hungry, so I eat seven figs.
My eyes are like squares sitting at this PC.
Although not much better, I watch some TV.
My nose wants a fragrance to keep from a sneeze
I circle my bedroom spraying Febreeze.
But after all this not a thought fills my head.
All I can grasp is the descending dread.
But wait is it possibly coming to pass?
A poem, though cheesy, is here at long last!
A lesson is learned from this instance my friend;
If insight doth fail, oh shoot, it’s the end!