My computer screen is empty,
Or nearly so!
Empty except for the insertion point,
Which winks at me balefully
>From the corner of the weakly pulsing rectangle.
It seems to be expecting the touch of my fingers upon the keys
Which will tell it to move over,
To make room for the first letter of my masterpiece!
But my mind is as blank as the glowing screen.
No words, no trite phrases,
No lilting lines of breathtaking poetry;
Just emptiness!
I lay awake last night and composed miraculous lines.
Lines of gasp provoking prose,
Interspersed with rhyme and meter!
These wondrous lines would make me famous,
World renowned,
When I committed them to paper
Or to my word processor........
Breakfast is done!
But where are those elusive words now?
They’ve all fled,
Replaced by the cares and tribulations of the working day!
As all days do, this day will pass,
And perhaps, when I crawl again between my sheets
I’ll rediscover the wonderful thoughts,
Tucked beneath my pillow,
Or folded in the counterpane of my unmade bed.
Tonight I’ll make sure I save them all!
For posterity, perhaps!

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