Upton Cottage, Loftus, 09/09/16
I wait for the gift that will lift
this pen to write.
I wait restlessly
thinking of times when words flowed
effortlessly
in my head.
I’ve written this next line
twice already
and each time
scribbled it out;
a crumpled page beside me.
So again, I wait,
regretfully
sad for not taking hold
of those fleeting,
now fleshless poems.
Knowing I didn’t care enough
to embrace them
and make them known.