I’ll sit down and write a poem today.

It will be about a rock,

or maybe it will be about a king,

or something.

I’ll write a book.

I’ll spread my pages out like wings,

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

tell them all I have to say,

or simply drift away.

Maybe I’ll write a song instead.

A Ballad, some blues,

or perhaps a nursery rhyme,

or not.

There will need to be an end.

So little time.

What to say?

I’ll try again another day,

once this rock is gone.