I thought that if I took my writers block
And cut it into pieces
I could build a wall
And, being higher
I would see the Eastern Dawn sooner

That way I would have a leg-up
so to speak
on all the other writers and poets
and gain an advantage.

My words would be brighter, cleaner, newer
Ready to go
To fit into my line
And make a poem.


But clouds came,
the light dimmed
And the words stopped.
There will be a tomorrow the weatherman said