Words rattle inside my head, and remain unsaid. Why can't I seem to get them out? It's as though my brain is having a drought. I sit and ponder as what to say. Such silence from my inner muse, brings such dismay. It seems like ages that I sit here and stare at these empty pages. I watch as the trees sway and the children play. I guess today is just not the day. I must accept that this is OK. O but how I agonize over staring at these empty pages. I pace back and forth. I pace to the west, east, south and north. But still no inspiration I can find. These words I need dare not come to mind. So here I will sit for ages, staring at these empty pages.