Empty

your lips quiver in hesitations
your shoes tap in murmurs
nervous silence encouraged
your hands scrawling
invisible words only you can see
in the air a small wail from your heart
clobber your thoughts
your pen no longer thirsty
intoxicated by writer's hay fever
you stare at the scattered empty pages
the hours ticking by quickly
outside the trees dust the ground
orange leaves spoil by wet footprints
the cold sun falter on its arrival
it's the end of another day
or is it the beginning?


Friday 5: clobber, encourage, scrawl, wail, hay