Poem about trying to write.
| It is pristine white, waiting.
Open to small words littering.
My scribbled scrabble nonsense.
I watch it closely, attempting
To prevent the water falling,
Of too many colorful ideas mixing.
But curiosity and excitement urging,
Writing until there is nothing left.
Piling pretty yellow, green,blue, red.
Leaving a heavy, soppy brown mess.