Staring through a blank page.
Words jumbled in my brain,
Anxiously waiting to be put together.
Placed in such an order of meaning,
A purpose for simple vocabulary.
My head is blank until I put pen to paper.
Thoughts flood me like a stormy stream.
The first line is the most difficult,
The remainder comes naturally

It’s comforting for ink to fill the page,
A page full of thought.
My marker glides across the paper,
A sense of success when the page is ridden with ink,
Words, imagination.

Thoughts and ideas do not have meaning until put to paper,
Written for others to read.
My handwriting is better sloppy,
My mind runs faster than my hands

Starting with a blank page,
Even ten minutes can have meaning,
Something more than a thought.

12/18/23