DAY 57 - WHEN THE WORDS DON'T COME

[DAY 57] 57/365

WHEN THE WORDS DON'T COME


Eyes closed,
she leans back in her chair, sighs.
Nothing inspires, her muse in hiding.
Slate pales to gray beneath curdled skies,
the silence loud inside her head.
She ponders . . . nothing.
Perhaps her emptiness 
will produce something.
And then, sunlight breaks through,
deposits rectangles of gold
across her writing desk.
Little by little, she feels life
starting up again.
She begins to write.

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