On Writing

Broken bits of story
Float across my mind,
Teasing me
With their potential.

I sit,
Staring at an empty page,
Waiting for the words
To come and find me.

My fingers wait,
Still as stone.
Or they fly,
Dancing on their own.

I am eternally surprised
How something can be
So easy, and so hard,
At the same time.



© The Lightning Tower, 2020