The Bookstore
Sitting in the café, of my favorite bookstore,
Writing poetry for my book
I find myself staring at words, close my eyes
And let the words just pass me by.
People walking past me, wonder what I do
I continue writing as if I knew.
They seem to think I concentrate
When all the while I hesitate
I’m looking for some inspiration
Interest and communication
Inspired by some motivation
To help me write with dedication
But all I do is fall asleep.
Picking up my pen at last
Returning to the words that passed
Is what I want to-do
Sitting in the café, of my favorite bookstore,
Writing poetry for my book
I find the inspiration needed
In the words of the poets on the shelves around me
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