W.P. Poem by Charlotte Ballard

I am paralyzed with fear
To write, to not
Have an excuse not to write.

It's been so long-
And I could always claim that
I did not have the tools
that I had grown
Accustomed to,
(A lie.)
I have the money now, to get
What I need to start
And I tuck it aside and
Explain that
I may need it for a rainy
Day. (It sure is bright today!)

It's wise - I suppose -
For if I got the w.p.
Then I would have to be a poet -
Whether I could stand it or not.