What if Six Spaceships

There is nothing to write about she Prue whined My reaction to this is not keenly kind What if that sewing box fell on your head? What if you died of fright, stone-cold and dead? She looked at me like I was a weirdo or goon What if six spaceships dropped away from the moon? Now I’m on a roll and cannot quit Loving the reaction of this shocked little nitwit What if a komodo dragon bit your arm? Her face has turned purple pink with alarm The what if’s help me write, I say She has not written one word by the end of the day though she claims a writer is who she wants to be Her imagination is stonewalled by herself, her worst enemy I am a writer she tells everyone who is brand new I roll my eyes at my delusional cousin, Prue.