Writing takes time
and patience. You wait
for words, hoping they'll come
from wherever they come and
fill the page with whatever
is hidden in your heart.
Some days they find their way
to the page; some days the page
remains blank. You can't know
ahead of time what you'll find or
what might appear.
Some days it's like playing
hide-and-seek: I see you.
No you don't. Catch me if you can!
And what you wish you'd written
remains just beyond your reach,
still wordless, waiting for another time
to reveal itself to you.
And so you keep writing, waiting,
hoping whatever is hidden in
your heart will fill the page
with words.
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