Sometimes The Words Won’t Come
Sometimes the words won’t come,
And you feel like you’ve just run dry.
Sometimes they come so easy
From mind to paper they fly.
It’s mostly just digging them out.
From the shadows of your mind.
Or simply just making them up—
Finding spontaneous rhyme.
What do you do with a world of words
That spin inside your head?
They either find an exit
Or remain unborn—unsaid.
And so it is with life
(If you share my point of view.)
Perhaps our only failures,
Lie in what we do not do.
