I stare out the window at the gathering stormclouds,
My pencil posed above the blank paper
I can feel inspiration swirling around me
From the majestic rumble of thunder
To the smell of rain in the air.
How exactly is a poem supposed to start?
My pencil is still hovering above the paper,
Its meaningful words still trapped inside the lead.
Maybe I just need to sharpen it again.
Lynne Crandall
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inside-the-lead/
