' I stare at the blank pages,
Pages that would often be filled,
Filled with words too heavy for the mouth to speak,
Yet, the drops of ink are all that can be seen,
And I worry as I do long for the passion still.

Ironic it is there's so much to write,
But the thoughts have been locked up too deep inside,
Encaged in my mind as they struggle to be out,
But a mere mumble is all that can be heard,
The circumstances have proven with no doubt,
The mind is its abode now
...And that I fear.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💕!