• The cursor blinks,
    As if to taunt me,
    Beckoning me to weave something upon the empty space,
    But Alas!
    Nothing comes to mind,
    It frustrates me,
    Beckoning and trying to lure me,
    Ah!Now it comes,
    An idea,
    A thought,
    Furiously it is typed,
    Sending the page blazing with letters,
    But now it's gone,
    The idea flew away,
    How sad it has made me. crying