Each morning I wake to silence.
No one is there.
Just sunlight to greet my face
as I pull back the blinds
and create the space
in which I will create.
The coffee is ready by this point.
A delicate brew with a dash of cream
poured into a cup for my soul to enjoy
At this moment, pen has begun
to greet its paper
Words have developed
direct from their maker
With a flick of the wrist
I craft something unique.
Words that could only exist
because I have spoken them
into existence.
No one may ever read
what I have to say.
They may never hear
the lines spoken from
this Tony Award winning play
that will never see the light of day.
Eventually, the phone will ring.
A neighbor will knock.
The world must start turning again.
It's always expected but still a subtle shock.
Those precious moments spent writing
are not to be forgotten.
They will come again.
It's not if but when.
There's more story to be told.
More poetry to unfold.
