The day dawns with a tingle of excitement.
A day to be filled with words not yet formed.
But they begin to shift and stir In my mind
like winds disturbing the leaves on the trees.
They shiver, restless to be written,
To inspire, excite or soothe.
Words, like no one has ever penned
Or will ever do so again.
I ready myself, pen poised,
Raise my eyes into the air.
I see them. Dancing, moving.
As they attempt to perform the magic,
That elusive moment when they are accessible
To clasp and keep imprisoned,
Powerless to fly from my grasp.
At last, I perform the near impossible.
I capture those words,
Wrangle them into a sentence so pure
It almost makes me weep with joy.
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