Let it drip from your fingertips;
Let the words reveal your thoughts.
Never let the silence win
When printed voice has fought.
Your heart will drive the story,
But your head will push it through.
Veins pump with pure emotion;
It’s what you’re born to do.
It all starts when the clouds roll in—
Jumbled thoughts, shading paper and pen.
Thunder crashes/sentences forming…
Flashing ideas, and your moment begins.
Drizzled wording, windy whispers;
Phrases soften to the paper.
Now, your fingertips are raining;
Sometimes, hours before they taper.
Final raindrops/edits written;
Storms are passing as pen is set down.
Outside the sun may be shining,
But you’re best making paper drown.