Can it be? only a few days left of this year's exercise, and i'm still going pretty strong. Not too bad, really. Well, why dawdle - might as well get to writing!
Blank pages stare at me,
waiting for the words to make them dance,
the melody and rhythm waiting for me
waiting on a melody.
Short and sweet, or lengthy and complex,
no one knows,
not even me.
I only know that I must write.
The page has been left blank for me,
and I must be the one to fill it.
It is the song of the writer,
Of fancy and of charm,
fictious wit and melancholy both.
Pain and beauty walking hand in hand.
the song is never complete,
but the writer must keep creating.
So I will.
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