• While sitting in front of my writer's desk,
    I'm thinking to myself.
    "What should I write today" I think.
    And then I look upon the shelf.

    A big number of books lie on there,
    I can round about to eighty.
    Looking at the titles;
    Yet no idea comes to me.

    I go over all the clieches;
    We don't need any more.
    And then an idea comes to mind;
    What are life's experiences for?

    So I think again of things I've done;
    And things that were done to me.
    Of lies, of kisses, of summer love's;
    And many more to be.

    I think of my first boyfriend; My best friend,
    And also, very, very, sweet.
    It's still a mystery;
    On how I had come to such a treat.

    He loved me with all his heart,
    And yet I knew something to be true:
    He wouldn't be there forever;
    Like the sun evaporates the morning dew.

    I think back on my mom's divorce.
    "Maybe I could use that!" I muse.
    Or maybe my first year of junior high! (middle school. icon_biggrin.gif)
    There was a lot of drama that year; And drama we need use.

    So as I start to write,
    All my worries fade to gray.
    And someday, maybe;
    I'll write all my fears away.