Through the Stillness

I want to write a poem.

The kind that makes me not care if anyone else likes it.

The kind that brings joy and freedom, solace and strength.

I think I have been too busy for a poem.

My to do-list has swept my flowing words away.

Or maybe it’s more my words are stuck.

Yes, that must be it.

The poem I long to write is merely stuck.

I think of the days of my childhood,

sailing the waters in the Key of Sea.

Like a melodic tune, it flowed beautifully with the winds guidance.

The swelling sails swelled our hearts with joy.

Not every time though.

There were days feeble winds slowed our flow.

We coasted along ever so slowly.

All we could do is wait for the wind.

My words, my poem, will surely come.

Until then, I will simply wait for the wind.