I thought I’d write a poem for you,
Something brief to get you through
Those days when all seems strange and dim,
Thoughts evade, ideas slim.
The cursor taunts you from the screen,
The page all shiny, bright and clean,
The words aren’t coming; that is clear,
The dreaded nightmare causes fear.
Will I ever write again?
Pencil, marker, crayon, pen?
Grab a sandwich or a walk,
Call a friend to talk and talk,
Plant a garden, sing a song,
Take a break, but don’t break long.
For words are buried deep inside,
Set them loose: free, untied,
With the cobwebs blown away,
You can write most every day.
We can do this; yes, we can,
Young or old, woman, man,
And on our journey, we will go,
Come on fellow ROWers, row!