<u>Writer’s Block</u>


    <u> </u>


    Liquid warmth in a bottle; in a glassIf you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Candlelight upon the desk as time burns low


    The glow enough for tired thoughts to see


    The abyss upon the page


    To stare and stare forever at the cruel bleached white


    Of the emptiness of the mind.


    Consumed, burnt out, the paper cares not


    As it takes and breaks your plots.


    Writer, writer ye poor soul,


    Your encore is a trial.


    As morning looms, your light subsumed


    Rest your head and sleep awhile.