I long for something to write,
something to say,
something to reveal,
something to convey.

Hands ache for words to flow,
to permeate your screen
with one new idea, one new theme.

I wonder how you would receive it,
Would it bring contentment or conviction?
Would it bring laughter or tears?
or will it simply recoil from the rim of your ears?

Eyes circle the blank page,
search for a new angle,
and watch my imagination age.

Heart soaks in beauty,
but mouth struggles to form words,
to reflect what I glean from falling leaves
and timid inquisitive birds.

Still my hands long to write,
to break this silence,
to fill the page,
to convey a beauty timeless.