Use the thumb to lock the door
To crack the whip and then for sure
Spark the imagination
And with any luck, to inspiration
I will succumb and write away
Nice and slick, if I may.
I have an irk as I set to work
And feeling numb
My fingers drum
The desktop as I crumble
Tumble
Fumble for words
Yet the thrum’s still there
As I sit in my chair
Waiting to write
Words that delight
Or provide insight
For Summer days and Winter nights
Oh, come on chum!
The writing’s done
And yet I haven’t even begun

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