Desktop thoughts...

Look at you.
Sitting there staring at the screen.
Wondering.
Imagining dreams, sunsets wild, thoughts red.
The stationary has been stagnating;
For you dont write with them anymore.
The pencil turns into a mourning body of wooden thoughts,
hoping to be revealed before a dying day.
The rest have retired to their litererary hibernations...

I sit here, staring, sharing, always caring.
Pretending to pull out rabbits from the throats of imaginary ravens...
Passing off dogs for dinosaurs...
But its a high...
Its Still a high....

[written for a very dear friend, whom I finally had the privelage to meet for the first time after knowing her for over a year. Sometimes, all a writer(pseudo or otherwise) needs is just one reader like her; thanks for being there! :) ]