Our precious words we lock away
Save them for a rainy day
Imprisoned in our minds they stay
Never see the light of day
Anxiously they pine away
Falling into disarray
Ideas once bright dimly glow
If only we could let them go
Across blank paper freely flow
Till new dawn the rooster crows
Weaving tales of wondrous lore
Shaking readers to the core
Alas, not yet, it’s far too soon
Maybe come next blue moon
locked inside journal
thoughts and feelings laid open
don’t misplace the key
pen and lined journal
implements of creation
where do I begin
Perhaps it’s
Not
So much
Nondescript
As
Insufficient
Verbal prowess
To
Do it
Justice
I am
From
