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my mind, a blank, when not written
my heart, not broken nor smitten
my body a blob, not winsome
my brain a brick, unspoken

the words written on a page
when I need to engage
are my way to give voice
to unformed thoughts and zest
to give my unruly passions a test

why is the paper on which I write
the key to my insight
how come some can spew
all words aloud to review
their inmost thoughts
when I must silently type

the autonomy of writing is pure
the monotony of repetition secure
the discipline of ideas on paper mature
to the structure of sentences I demure

I am, I confess, in awe of the process
it is lonely, I guess
but not so bad briefly to obsess
so, in black and white, I progress
I trust this indulgence is not in excess

Stephanie Millican

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The following comments are for "Typing My Thoughts"
by EchoMarm

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