napowrimo post 28.
I can not write a poem tonight,
the words are just not flowing.
My mind is blank, my fingers are tired,
and whatever I write just doesn't sound right.
End of the semester, creative juices are
drying up.
How many more finals weeks can a person endure.
So here I am typing sipping coffee black with sugar,
hoping I can produce something able to rest under
the title, of a Poem.
Oh wait, I did it.
H.
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