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couldn't
September 9, 2012
The pen was in my hand,
Unmoving as I thought.
Thought of all that had happened,
And of all that had not.
Browsing through the memories,
Digging deep into the layers,
Shuffling through the tunnels,
Till I was left, all but bare.
My life lay in front of me,
As clear as day could be,
And yet as I began to write,
The pen stayed in my hand,
Unmoving as I thought.
Thought of me, myself and I,
But write I could not.
© Cynthia M., San Jose, CA
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