It seems a shame to write for the sake of writing, <br />when words don't effortlessly flow. <br />Maybe I will write tomorrow. <br />Tomorrow is always an alternative <br />too easy to say, to promise, and yet never grasped so maybe <br />it is better I write now. <br />You see, I am not gifted. Pray, m'lady, I would give another, <br />anyother <br />gift for the gift of the gab, <br />but the drought of illustration and decadence in man hath <br />not enough gifts to spare, and so I struggle on. <br />Words surround me like bats on a summers night, but I can barely make them out and never touch them, <br />so in haste I turn to something that might recuperate a sense of being, doing, <br />seeing is not believing, <br />that i was stripped of, <br />like a skin from a banana, <br />but did I not willingly let it go? <br />For now I shall feel a loss. <br />It is easier to write about unwriting than to write a written 'un' in itself! <br />How does it feel to have taken my horse? <br />A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse! <br />Gone with the sorrow rain of an eternal summers day, <br />To feel alone a crowd works best.<br /><br />Effie Yalena Steyn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-horse/
