The Author
Minutes turn to hours,
as the clock ticks onwards;
still the paper before me
remains crisp, white – untouched.
My right hand is now cramped,
from it’s gripping my pen
and the notation on my pad,
slowly bringing alive my thoughts.
Every scribe I write becomes structured,
I stop to think before every word;
look back over what I have written,
disjointed, yet I know it all.
A play on my script,
tweaking here and there.
Informing every thought I record,
bringing brilliance for my virgin page.
Words form sentences,
pictures are painted; a masterpiece of art,
breathing life to my work,
to be realized by many.
I transfer my scribe,
to my neat sheet waiting.
Ink flows smoothly, a pleasure to see.
Release washes relief over my tense form.
Midnight strikes, not long left now,
before I can lay my pen to rest
and bid ‘Goodnight’,
to another fulfilled and worthy day.
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009
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