No One is Home

Having knocked on
Writing’s door
through some
soul-searching hours,
I dare say,
No one is home.

Geez, words are
roaring ready.
Favored tools,
a leather-bound
spiral sits posed,
mechanical pencils,
poised, positioned,
patiently await,
screen is internet-ed,
nicely-behaving with
available services.

I shall knock once more,
set my muse alarm-clock
not to snooze but snore.

Geez, and I was ready.
I was ready.

7 comments

  1. Greetings, Michael,

    Yep, I believe we all knock on this door and wonder if anyone still lives there at times.
    Thanks for reading & replying. Hope all is well.

    Jan

    Like

    • Hey, Sarah,
      I think our Words are just like us—after a while they get tired of the words. They have to have a recess, too. I find that often when I wish to write & get in touch with writing, I feel the connection when I write about the impossible struggle, the NOT being able to write! haha
      Always nice to see you in our scoots around the Pub. Happy Saturday. Happy February.

      Coffee to coffee miles away yet close in heart. That’s a good day’s start. Take care, my friend.,

      Jan

      Liked by 1 person

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