No story to tell!

Thinking:

running my hand over

my stubbled chin,

trying to get a story worth telling,

there are so many,

but in the early morning stupor,

I panic;

the page freezes,

and the words do not flow

as I sit down cast,

watching the cursor  blinking

at the top corner of the blank

page and rub my stubbled chin

some more setting up a rhythm

for my foot to follow;

Soon my fingers are scurrying

over the keyboard,

and a strange poem

is struggling out onto the page,

but still some how there

is no story to tell.

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