Perhaps I shall write
shake loose the faint
and foggy images
from cob-webbed corners
of my mind
Take pen in hand
and softly stain
these white virgin sheets
with the gentle kiss
of cool dark ink

I will lead the gliding stylus
through a slow sleepy dance
of misty dreams
drifting loops
and prancing swirls
until they pirouette
into gentle whispering figures
that breathe
with a life of their own

And resting thoughts
will spring forth
A vibrant desert bloom
that sings with life
from the silent lines
of this faceless
empty landscape
so the flowers of emotion
may be reborn
into this sad
and callous world