Sitting here with writer's bloc,
Writing down any thoughts for today.
Adding to these daily, one just might,
Turn magically into a poem.
A word means more tomorrow,
Than it does today.
If it were not for dreaming,
Where would I be?
I love the 'bookness' of a book,
The feel of the paper, the smell of new or old.
A motivational speaker told me,
I could reason myself back into cheerfullness.
He was wrong.
Don't ask me how old I am!
My bladder reminds me of it every 2 hours.
What are your thoughts,
For today?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem