The page remains a blank
Ideas, half formed,
Wont reach the pen.
Words, phrases, thoughts
Just out of reach.
The door is closed.
Then it happens
A word, a comment, a look
Fits like a key in a lock.
The door opens,
Ideas coalesce, thoughts define themselves,
And work can begin.
Poetry Guy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inspiration-17/
