A writer sits alone
pensive on a rugged rock
pen poised as if to strike
as her thoughts whisper
through the aching willow trees
and waltz upon the shining waters
people pass her by like time
too quickly to inspire
but she's waiting
and watching
she herself like her pen
is poised ready to strike
and SNAP
an idea lights up
illuminating her mind's eye
and the words flow like water over the weir
constant and methodical with purpose
and her thoughts paint a picture
in oils of brightest hues
onto the pale canvas pages
of suns
of summer days
of friendship
then love
the inevitable betrayal
and jagged rocks
inviting like his arms
in a place of inspiration