I tiptoe towards the desk
Evening sun casting beams against the carpet
I sit, giddy, in my seat
Chai tea in my mug
I open my laptop.
I rest my fingers on the familiar keys
Drawing a deep breath
Letting it out-
And then I write.
I write until I’m gasping for breath
Too engrossed to even breathe
Until the tea bag in my mug is cold
I write until the sun is far past the horizon
And my eyes are burning
I write until my fingers are cramping
And my tongue is dry
And my stomach rumbles.
I write.
And I will keep writing.
I will keep writing until the world understands.
I will write.
Allison Sipple
I thought that you used brilliant imagery and vivid descriptions in this poem! I’m not usually a fan of poetry, but this was enjoyable to read.
Anna Hicks
Too true! You are a great writer Robin! Keep it up!