Plagued by daily thoughts
Of disorganized whimsy
She’s forced to relegate to a chair
That’s tattered and flimsy

Shoved into her hand
Is a warm cup of black tea
In the other hand a pen
And a notebook on her knee

Sipping the day away
With an intense look of determination
Sometimes random smiles appear
Others times grimaces of frustration

Secretly she knows
The story which she’s telling
She only hopes that others
Will one day find it compelling

Carried far away
By all of her imaginative thoughts
She fervently scribbles down words
Ever assessing the plot

Biting her lower lip
She stares out the window
Very carefully considering
Who will be her hero

Time ticks away
And she’s oblivious to the passing hours
All she can think of
Is who she’ll entrust with superpowers

Every decision must be impeccable
And scrupulously thought out
She’s knows there cannot be
Even the slightest bit of doubt

 

© 2017 Michelle Cook