The exercise:
Write about: yearning.
It's getting darn chilly here. I saw a handful of snowflakes fluttering down from the clouds at one point this afternoon. Too soon!
Ah well, the fireplace helps soothe the pain.
Mine:
Sitting solemnly at his desk,
Blank pages and trusted pen,
The words refusing to come play
And he can't remember when
Or if they ever did before,
Or if they will again.
Chin resting in an upturned hand,
An idea deep within
Begins aching for escaping,
Crawling beneath his pale skin,
But this constant fear of failure
Will not let him begin.
