just the skeletons
there is no denying
So long so empty, words a stranger. Now
returned I feel their knock upon my door.
A stage performer takes another bow,
and here she comes to give her third encore.
A thirst for writing blew its desert wind.
I wrote a line but failed at metaphors.
Each time I tried, my writing efforts thinned,
I saw no waves upon the waiting shores.
What would I do to bring my words again?
How would I come to write my poetry?
Melissa’s 20 Lines has been the ken
that opened up the lock box with her key.
And so I find a structure here, a friend
who recognizes gardens we can tend.
On 20 Lines a Day I find my voice
again, and glean from it poetic voice.
Beginning words may stumble all around
but with more practice they will bring their sound
to music. Muse, I ask you to extend
your presence, meet me there around the bend.
Together we might form orchestral tunes
beneath the summer suns and stars and moons.