Just Imagine

Imagine a paper that’s unstained with ink
And you’re given a day in forever to think.
Your pencil is sharpened, your mind is alight,
And yet you cannot think of something to write.

You think about stories, you think about plots,
But all on your paper are some inky dots.
You draw a nice doodle on the side of your page,
A dog or a horse or a little bird cage.

You write down a word and you scribble it out
And you aren’t quire sure what you are thinking about.
You pull out your hair and you bite on your nails
Your mind starts to wander and begins to bail.

You pull out a book or inspirational movie,
And think about so many things it’s a doozy,
And wonder about things that are all quite strange,
And question if maybe you just cannot change.

After all that you think and that you do,
And after the span of an hour or two,
You begin to see what you’ve missed all night,
Just what you think you’ll be able to write.

So you set on your paper with pencil in hand,
Sharpener nearby a paperclip stand.
Your words scrawl across it and up it and down.
You start to amaze and inspire and astound.

You sell your book to a small little place,
That puts it on top of a tiny glass case.
(Not underneath, or inside, they explain;
It’s not that important, it’s okay to get stained.)

One person buys it, then two and then three,
And soon you have murdered an entire tree.
Your money begins to build up a large stack,
Your debts are now all entirely paid back.

The funds that you’ve gathered just keep going up,
You think about buying a cute little pup.
Your boyfriend is sweet and this new ring is pretty,
And you find yourself with yet another kitty.

Your family begins to grow much in size,
As you find yourself with two baby guys.
(You already have a girl named Renee
Who likes her planes and toys and making it rain.)

You buy a new house and you leave the old city
And move out of town where the roads are all gritty.
Your house is so big and you have so much cash
So nothing in your life results in a clash.

Then one day, as you drop kids at a school,
You think about to you what’s acted like fuel,
And suddenly, to your unbidden frustration,
You realize this is still imagination.