My mind
down dusty corridors, i wander
everywhere lie the discarded thoughts
of a disorganized and undisciplined mind
still its called a thought...
reminiscent of a once busy museum
now deserted and seemingly long forgotten
Then turning a corner,i find myself
suddenly in the midst of a hive of
activity.
A new Curator has come with fresh ideas and input
now my thought has become serious thinking...
which I poured on a piece of blank paper
hmm... now read what an impressive thought
I think it is ...
written on a piece of white sheet
After some painful moments of writer's block..
from once a very disorganized mind..
Walla... a poem written by me at last