When the poet’s mind went blank
A thought suddenly spurred her on.
She went dancing.
She went seeking a semblance of rejuvenation
She went sans pen and paper
When the poet took to the dance floor
The rhythm was her master
She attempted the moonwalk
She attempted the running man, the shuffle
She attempted something new
When the poet sat to rest her tired feet
There was a sense of awakening
She felt a tingle
She felt her mental safe open
She felt inspired.
When the poet had a drink
A figure caught her eye
She kept staring
She kept chewing over
She kept the image in her mental safe
When the poet returned home
Racing to her bedroom, she wasted no time.
She opened her mental safe
She opened her notepad
Opened, were the floodgates.
Halted by writer’s block
The poet went searching
Went dancing
Was gifted with thoughts
Was again literarily vulnerable
Cured by a single outing
Cured by a change in environment
The safe of the hidden treasures, she had unlocked
And the zeal for writing, was once again restored.
bowendiaries 