It was a sad and cloudless morning
I took my pen out of my kit
And put a feather in my head
Did I really think it would help me to write best?
I ate an apple and drunk some tea
but the ideas were still not pouring out of me.
I started crying from despair
then I went to the fridge to eat a pear.
“Let’s see a movie” I told myself
“Or read a book that would be the best!”
I run with joy up and down
even my spider thought:
“we have a crazy one around”
The evening found me in the bathtub
thinking “that’s it, my fate as a writer it’s done”.
I threw away my pens and pencils
even my favorite notebook full of sketches.
Two months passed and I still cry.
I always thought I would be a writer for life.
I walk pass the places I loved to write
and I don’t speak with people I used to inspire.
Friends have left me all alone
and I have no one to turn to when I feel alone.
They say “you act like your best friend died”
which is true my writing has gone out of sight!
Searching and searching I sat by the sea
I closed my eyes and my mind was full of dreams.
An empty page came my way
and I started writing about my long day.
* * *
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