Hidden(Wild Daffodil)
A Writer’s Life
A writer’s life
is not her own…
it’s like you sit right by the phone, waiting
most hours of the day
and oddest hours of the night,
and, of course, you look a fright--with
hair not combed
and glasses on…
for thoughts to drop right from the sky
(it’s like you’re just a passer-by…)
The thoughts may stay
but the words might go--
it’s like they’re not
your own,
you know.
Writing is like that sometimes. :)
ReplyDeleteI never thought of daffodils being wild. Those are beautiful.
Lynn~These pics are from last spring. I am so hoping to get back to the same spot. I just noticed some daffodils beginning to peep up here, locally.
ReplyDeletelol - that's perfect, lg. Yes, it's waiting to see what thoughts stick around and make themselves at home that drives me crazy :)
ReplyDeleteI can't wait to see the daffies again. :)
"what thoughts stick around and make themselves at home;" Talon~ I like that :-)
ReplyDelete