Responsibility
drags me from comforting quilts out into the sodden world.
My shoes,
rain soaked by puddles, encase my feet in cold and damp.
The air conditioner
chills my bones.
My attention
drifts to the large wall clock and fixates on the second had
tick-tick-tick-ticking away.
I escape.
I nurture
thoughts from deep within and retell yesterday’s tale with intuitive
creativity.
My first
draft practically perfect.
My thoughts
stir up summer’s lazy mornings and conjure long, hot days filled with writing.
Two months
to drench myself under a waterfall of words.
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