Countless Waiting Gems

My fingers move across the empty page. Its shining smoothness pure and newly felt. But not one word on it has yet been spelt, All inspiration hides within a cage. And sadly there’s no key, to set it free. Ideas come and then ideas go, No single letter, up to now’s been writ. Perhaps one’s trying too hard, just a bit. I’ll ease up for a while, and take it slow. Let my tired mind believe that I’ll achieve. Ink within my pen has suddenly dried, So has my font of countless waiting gems. Nothing is left now in my old brainstems. I think my mind is on a downward slide. Could this then be my age, my final stage. No it is just a bleep, all will be well, My mind will open up and will receive, New thoughts that form and I will then retrieve, All the information, clear as a bell. For as knowledge can grow, my pen will flow. © Ernestine Northover