Preoccupied Communicator
Solitary writer
My instruments here before me
In my hands
For my mind to roam
Wandering far from home
On a trip waiting to be lost
Thinking to exhaust
Mystery and delight
Complied and adrift
Floating on this desk
In a imaginative spell
Then in front of my eyes, a marriage of paper and pen
Brought fourth in the den
A story
Jumped out from a blurry
Knows no end
When intrigue sparks a rouse
Written in my prose
Clear the pile
And began again,
Obsessing
This driven race
Put fourth a mistake than erase
Oh the toils of the solitary writer
Making me the lonely fighter
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2007
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