Dear Writer's Block, You have so much to say to a piece of paper,but I'm standing right hereplease acknowledge me,and tell me all you know. Your words are like rainI long for it during drought,to hear the drumming music,and wipe it across the sky in a furious blue,a blue that never settles. Your words, drops of icefalling rapidly from an all knowing mouth, always falling downtripping over themselves, falling over each other,they fall to the floor and shatter on the ground,by force or by choice I will never know. People curse the day your drops dare tap them on their door,they close the words awaylock it up, turn the key tight,I want to open the doorI want to flee the room. Please,take this dry paperAnd make me a puddle make me a lakemake me an oceanwhere our ideas can roam free,where I can swim in your thoughts. Give me Prospero's magic and his island,where only you and I can dance in the rain,and watch the sunrise painted with the colors of your leaves,and the sunset,to mark the end of a new ideaof a paper filled,With magic so great. Give me the warmth of your words,and the sun behind your clouds,show me the light in your eyesas you let the words poor onto the paper. Like a fire colored tree,rain your leaves onto melet red orange yellow bathe me in their shade. I'm waiting herewith a jar in my hand,a heart shaped jar just so that you understand,my heart fills with your words,it await the next beat of thunder, the clapping hands of lightning,drops fill my heartwith words so powerful,that many struggle to hear.