Waxing Poetic

I felt like waxing poetic today, so here goes:

Yeah. I got nothing.

Why is it when I am nowhere near my computer, I can think of a million poetic thoughts, but as soon as I sit down with my keyboard, all poetic thoughts fly from me? Let’s try again:

I am a like lonely leaf, blowing along a deserted street.

Violently I am blown,

This way and that,

Until I am so far from where I started as to have no recognition of it.

I don’t want to repeat it, so I must remember.

I must instead be a tree,

Steady and strong.

A mother with roots, not a flailing leaf,

Not a child.

A woman,

A strong woman.