She sits, staring blankly at a page
Simply wondering if her mind will kick in
It’s been so long since a poem flew forth
So she waits, and lets the pen do it’s talking

Spun from the ink, new worlds start to form
Creatures and people she could barely imagine
She studies their lives as the pen slowly dances
She wishes she could become part of those words

The words have more power than one can tell
They sit there on signs, in essays, cluttered on flyers
But here, they are gods, creating and shaping
She watches, intrigued by their powers

Words dance on the paper with alongside a scratching pen
Little letters form towering cities above all of us
Floating between the lines, showing fortunes and futures
She keeps on watching as the pen moves without her

It’s been oh-so-long since she’s done this soul healing task
A good month or more of creative depression and starvation
But she sits up straight and smiles kindly this time
For though she denied it, she had shaped those words

As the page fills to brimming and the letters crowd,
She puts down her pen and raises the paper before her,
Shaking the misfit letters of for another piece,
She reads her creation for the world to finally hear her…