Blip, blip, blip… It taunts me,
blip, blip, blip… appearing, disappearing.
That little bar, right where my last words left off.
Like a schoolyard bully he mocks me.

I cook, I clean, I pace, I surf, I do everything,
but still he taunts me. Blip, blip, blip…
Like a mad man I prattle on to thin Air,
I ask her, what would you write?
As always I get the silent treatment.

I scream in my own head, “oh words where are you!”
Torch in hand I search the pitch black catacombs;
still I find only a void air won’t inhabit.

I walk down the street to the city creek
and flip each stone; looking for syllables.
Like crawdads they swiftly scurry, side swimming
my hands as I vainly grasp at clumps of mud and water.
I make my way from the creek back down the long road.

By the time I’m home autumn has come,
each tree’s leaves wear a different color;
red for imagery, brown for alliteration,
orange for allegory, purple for metaphor.

Like a letter lost in the mail
Air’s answer finally arrives.
The leaves fall all around me!
With god like haste I rake them up
and swim in a pile vast as the ocean.

Let’s see you blip now!!!