Waiting
I sit here in front of the keyboard, fingers poised and ready. Its time to write something. It doesn't matter what, but it has to be something. Something worth it. It seems like it would be so easy, I have all the letters before me, all I have to do is somehow put them together into words, words that flow and make sense, words that say something. A few minutes go by. Still my fingers are ready, anxious to begin. What will I write this time? What words will I choose, what story will I have them tell? Time slips by slowly, like sand through an hour glass. Nothing comes.