My labor of words
My words of labor
Far into the night
looking for the common denominator

Like a sculptor
and his chips of marble
Words fall from my thoughts
Off my tongue they
will tumble

Envious of those whose words can progress
Eloquent in manner
their efforts so blessed

I only dream of a maybe ,
some day
But it seems all of my efforts only change
straw into hay

Perhaps no such work
will ever exist
Still I move on
I endure , I persist