She glances at a crumpled paper next to her desk

Upon its jarring, comes upon the discarded rest

Scatters her hopes and desists her mind's reign

Looks to an empty calendar, deigning that the next try will be the same

Writer's block reaches and pulls out a sigh

Meaningless work, oh how she had tried

Utilizing blue stained fingers, she blots out remainders of ink

Fruitlessly attempting to unravel her mind's tangled kinks

She spins in a desk chair, feeling introverted and lost

All had been futile attempts, at all too high of a cost

Her inspiration had flown out along the autumn brown mockingbirds

To find it her true desires would have to be heard

Halfheartedly clasping a hand to her chest

She prays, she cries, she suffers varying degrees of unrest

A little bird flies through the window and chirps a cheery song

The delicate creature lands on her desk, and an idea finally dawns

The writer picks up her pen, beginning to write

Scribing a poem detailing her struggle and fright

She vows to forevermore have faith in her ability with a pen

Laughing at writer's block; declaring that it would never curse her again