Thesaurus of Blank Pages

When I asked Bree to write together, she generously shared with me a poem she’d already crafted. I wrote in with her effortlessly like a little leaf floating along a river.


It’s difficult to find the words some days
I’m a thesaurus full of blank pages
Trying to dig between the emptiness
old stories stare back at me
characters having a banter party
without me
There must be unfinished business with those ghosts of my past
They invade my waking moments
eating up my creativity
thieving all the phrases that used to live inside my mind

I gather my strength
focus my weary mind
willing the words to come back
Surely if I shake the past hard enough
they’ll release all they hold captive
and start falling like cherry blossoms covering every crevice and crack of the page