Like a boat without a dock,
it’s another week of writer’s block.
I drift around aimlessly,
tossed about on a wordless sea.
The sun still rises every day.
But all the thought’s gone astray.
The tides do rise and again will fall.
It’s sink or swim because that’s all.
Equipped with pen and a pad,
afloat I’ll stay and won’t be sad.
The pages will fill, soaked in sweat.
The ink will dry with no regret.
The sands of time will shift once more.
My anchor will drop on a distant shore.
The vistas there will all be new.
Perspectives’ will change, as they do.
Horizons are always just ahead.
The breeze will lead to where we’re led.
I can’t complain, this journey’s been good.
So I’ll keep thrashing as we should.