The flashing cursor begs me write. 25 minutes is the writer’s right.
So I will carry on and continue to push. Even if it reads like mush.
It doesn’t much matter how it ends up. Whether readers think me brilliant or a schlup.
The point is that writers write and write they must. Or with the world they lose trust.
There is a gift in each soul to share. And the gift is given regardless of flare.
So write on little writer, put the word to blank screen. Many words may flow out or preferrably lean.
Poem by Jeff Meyer, December 30,2016