A 5 coloured room
filled with graying hair
bald spots
and unfulfilled dreams.
The windows are pried open
a clock across the street
watches and marks
the slow progress
of a time
in a boardroom
in a sleepy inner city.
A train rolls on by
and Chinatown buzzes
Favourite authors
story recommendations
and writing advice
are all tossed around
as my pen flips and flops
between living and dieing.
The jumpy, twitchy energy
flowing through the room
makes my pen
want to jump
and scream for joy.
Hooray it cries
The hole is unplugged
I can write again!
As long as my pen
doesn't die
