When Words Will Not Come.

Alone stands a dried-up pen,

fill it with ink, you may say.

Easier said than done.

Life is not going my way.

A dried-up pen can´t convey,

thoughts and ideas of its own,

these come from a brain,

and THIS brain has no seeds sown.

With nought in the mind to convey,

the pen has nothing to write,

It has not a life of its own,

It cannot put up a fight.!

No, the brain is needing a thrust,

A push from inside is needed,

But from where will come that push,

so thoughts by the pen can be heeded.

Alone stands a dried-up pen,

Fill it with ink, you say.

Maybe that´s what I should do,

And hope ideas come flying this way..