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By chocomallow
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28 January 2006 |
QuestionsShe sits and stares blankly,
Thoughts running through her head.
Pen in her hand,
What will she do next?
She lets out a huge sigh,
Eye-lids wanting to close.
Muscles are tense,
What will she do next?
She must go to sleep now,
Her mind just won't switch off.
It might sometime,
What will she do next?
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Written by neh205 (23 comments posted) 16th February 2006 | i like the repetition in this poem. It occurred to me this is what many of us poets must look like when we are stuck on a particular line late at night!
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