By Julie

I pick away
Through all the thoughts
I’ve ever thought to think
Picking away for things to write,
Put down in
Pen and ink.
Although I may grow thirsty
I’ll soon find some tucked-away spring:
Wonder why I have not looked
Right here
For anything?
I’ll chip away through all the rubble
And find some chips of treasure:
A good idea, a rhyme sometimes
An ending for good measure.
If I look behind the bend of
My experience, I am told,
I sometimes search around and find:
Oho! I have struck gold!
Sometimes the things I’m looking for
Come in dreams I almost forgot
Possibly a hanging wish
Or an accidental thought.
When my cart of pleasure is filled so full
I take it to where I can melt
And spin my bits of treasure to
Something witty or heartfelt.
Then, I hurry back to my cavern
Of infinite fascination
And pick away at all my thoughts;
Mining for my inspiration.