The windows are shut
The sweat pouring down of no beginner’s luck
It’s a writer’s chronicle
This is the place of writer’s miracles
Papers thrown on the floors
Ideas of theories in not being sure
There are times of inspiration in ready to explore
It’s jolting down a story
Continuing writing with papers full of glory
Then the famous words, “I got my story”
As the wanderer entered the room
It seemed like the warmth of heat being gloom
But looked beyond the gloom and the air seemed to spell doom
Pages became words
Chapter after chapter the dialog could be heard
Unmarked by time
It was the variation that was combined
Out of the writer’s room comes a masterpiece
This is something that inspiration has released
The writer’s room was truly in full bloom.