My Words Poem by Nancy Winter Miranda

When the words escape me, when nothing comes...
I oft' wonder...
where do they go... Is this the same... for some?

So many times they are... just there. So many times...
there's naught but air.

Where do they start, do they collide?
Do they gather together, or stand but a few.
Do my thoughts come across? Are the feelings felt?
How do my words compare... to other's out there?

When once again they begin to stream,
to cry from below, from deep within...
I put them to paper,
like a confession of sin.