This is the place where everything goes
The block of the wastes of writer's woes
Snow white papers piled up to the sky
Fluttering quietly, quietly by.
Nobody lives here, somebody did
But still it's empty, no rental bid
Who would want to live in this place
A garbage can, fallen from grace.
Forgotten ideas, stale ones too
Cheesy tales about trips to the zoo
But among the unwanted trash you can find
Gems of notes to delight the mind.
Things once lost have now been found
New inspiration, breaking new ground
The fluttering paper like new snow
Quiet and cool, gentle and slow.
Silently now, like snow on a grave
The papers fall...and fade.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
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