in

I Wish A Writer Loved Me

There are days when the words

Curl up tiredly and slip into a corner.

Those are the days when my thoughts

 Gasp for breath and never die .

Instead they throb within,

Swirling in the emotions

That grip their very roots and stifle them.

The night stares blankly at me

Waiting for me to sleep

It  then passes on listlesly.

If only a writer loved me.

Not any writer though.

A writer with glasses perched upon his nose.

He would read between the silences,

All those limp thoughts ,

Sift them gently and lift them out.

He would wrap them in words and gift them back to me.

Or perhaps

He would just let them lie

Within the pages of a notebook,

To be read in better times.

The night stares blankly at me.

I wish a writer loved me.

Report

What do you think?

14 points
Upvote Downvote

9 Comments

Leave a Reply
  1. Yes a writer loves you
    Not with glasses perched
    But an essence of silence
    That often play sprinkler
    Right when I least expect
    Carving poignant emerald
    Even when it seems impossible.

    Very well written ma’am. I remembered I too planned something like this for the prompt.

Leave a Reply

Dynamo

Written by Jaya Pillai

A teacher and a learner - both by passion and profession. Music, cooking, reading, writing, traveling and all kind of creative stuff keep me  going . You are not likely to catch me in a crowd. Instead, you might find me taking a walk on semi dark evenings  talking to the stars or thinking

Sands of time

Waiting …