I sit at the table and stare into space
Alone with the thoughts I can’t put into place
Beside me, a pencil and a loose-leaf sheet
Yet, hours have passed; my idea incomplete
A thousand words have swirled freely in my head
And at this late moment, I should be in bed
But, here I will stay ‘til the last line is penned
For reasons I may not ever comprehend.

I look at the clock, now a quarter past one
Then, gaze at my document, still far from done
“Should I start this over?” I ask myself why
As the wind tries to sing me a lullaby
The words I have chosen, though straight from my heart
Seem to have no meaning; their flow falls apart
So, in a split second, they are trash can bound
Another case in the dilemma I’ve found.

I rest my head briefly; then, take a clean page
The words in my brain, still spinning in a rage
My heart is entangled in a bout of will
Since this sheet of paper, I so long to fill
Soon, the daylight breaks and I have yet to sleep
I concede this challenge as one I can’t keep
I turn off the light, fluff my pillow and doze
The paper bereft of the lines I compose.

© 2007 – Jill Eisnaugle’s Poetry Collection