Try as I might
That cold stormy night
I couldn't force the left hand to write
not for fear
nor for spite
The pencil hand stubborn it laid there like stone
I would push I would pull my brain left alone
The lesson it came to the ego so hurt
you can push on your hand
but your soul makes it work
and so as I thought of the emptyness inside
I called on my spirit
It seams to have died
not a thing to write
I felt no fear
and had no spite and try as I might nothing to write

04/25/2009

Posted on 04/26/2009
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Wilson