She is just a girl.

Inspiration lingers upon my finger tips. Eager to burst forth in language, rhymes and all sorts of tails. Mounds of dreaming remain mute in my mind.

A girl. She lives. Two siblings.

So much drifting on a memory............................................................why can't my thoughts be focused.

I read books, I hear songs, my eyes trail over lyrics..my heart skips at the voice of Woolf..poetry sinks in my veins...I love words.

Why can I not create what I enjoy?

Stifled and unwhole. Ideas..not plots...characteristics and not characters.

I crave to write..but I lack substance. A gallery of pretty words..spotlighted..framed...beautiful....with no meaning. Like a pretty face.

So much and an empty page.

Schools may change within the month. Scary thoughts.