Words
He wakes up in the early hours
And goes to sit by the window,
Propelled by the dream that woke him.
Words pour onto the page on his desk -
Like marbles in freefall into a pool of clarity,
Released, at last, from their drawstring purse.
In the morning he reads sentences
And wonders who wrote them.
He wakes up in the early hours
And goes to sit by the window,
Propelled by the dream that woke him.
Words pour onto the page on his desk -
Like marbles in freefall into a pool of clarity,
Released, at last, from their drawstring purse.
In the morning he reads sentences
And wonders who wrote them.
2 comments:
I really like the last two lines. Did you write this about anyone in particular? I think it's probably true of all writers.
Thank you, Robert. No, no one in particular. True of all writers!
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