Monday, 4 September 2017

The Long Weekend

Scratch . . . scratch . . .

Now I sit here and intend to type
But I do not have anything to write
For in my mind there is naught
A worthy thought

A promise has been made
The need to update
Every three days or so sounds quite great
But now its not moving and in a stalemate

When time does not permit
I have to admit
Inspirations come to submit
Ideas flow in to visit
Lots of it

But as I sit
They escape, they exit

I little comprehend
The mystery of the mind
I don't understand
Why brain and hand don't sync in time
Are they numbed
Bedazzled by the long weekend?

No comments:

Post a Comment