Count them out...these lazy days
Where winds doth rage, but nothing sways
And nothing moves
Although the voices sing much louder when all is still
So many shouts...so many crazed
With ideas and wonders to confuse and amaze
Which only goes to prove that sometimes stillness can't be stilled
And, wanting nothing more than this:
To adorn the page with my writer's kiss
Caressing keys
So as to lay out every word each muse has bred
The opportunity so often missed
In writing when the urge insists
Then...vacancies
The moment lost when ideas have fled
The words remain despite my lack
Of calling all my muses back
And time slips by
As ideas become memories that scream
The scattered pieces staring back
Awaiting moments to attack
And come to life
Just as the dreamer wakes into the dream