Out of Gas
I’m staring at my notebook;
The page is lined but blank.
I’m like the driver with no map
Or gas within the tank.
I’ve got the engine started
But I have no place to go,
So I’m sitting here in neutral
With my spirits sinking low.
It doesn’t happen often
That my mind will not engage,
Yet my musings somehow managed
To get words upon the page.
It’s almost time for typing,
For what finally seems clear
Is that sometimes simply idling
Is enough to get in gear.
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