Sometimes, I have a grand idea.
A vision to write and share
with poet community and beyond.

But when self approaches screen,
finger freeze, as if in a frozen pond white.
As if letters stare back with eyes
that can’t see reason.

Moment drag as thoughts are stagnant
in a mind-like pool.
Words swimming helplessly whereby
all I could do is hope for a
preserver-like spark to rescue me.

The idea is lost in the whirlpool of thoughts
so I drift.
anxiously waiting for a new one to emerge.