My Plague

Here I sit
With pen in hand,
Thoughts abound
Both small and grand.

My paper waits,
Its lines still bare.
But soon my words
Will be placed there.

The letters swirl
Within my mind,
And yet those words
I can not find.

I pen a line,
Await the next.
But thoughts won't come,
My mind seems vexed.

So still I sit
And gently rock,
Again I’m plagued
With writer’s block.