The sun shines everyday
the clock ticks one second ahead to the future
There are millions of reasons to smile
to be happy
But somehow there is a lens on the view I see
I’m trying to write my story
but it feels like I am writing in the dark
I feel the pen in my hand,
the paper on the table.
I understand the words I write
I feel the curve and flow of
the letter L
the wave of an i
the infinity movement of an f
and a wider wave of an e
But how do I go back to dot the i?
Are my letters straight on the page,
Or does the words I write scrunch together
unable to expand and breathe
a muddled mess of lines?
I wonder if the path of my words slant up or down?
A story that looks like
I dropped a box of magnets poetry pieces
onto the paper
I know that I can smile today, but I’m
writing in the dark
I have never found the switch to enlighten my room
Or found the window shades
to pull back the curtains
to see the beauty of the world
And no one seems to know I’m in herewriting in the dark