An Inch From My Hand
There is a beautiful poem I have never read,
it seems to appear while dreaming in bed.
The verses will come when I fall asleep
whispering to me, as I slumber deep.
I have written this poem inside my mind,
but, pen to paper, the words are unkind.
On the tip of my tongue, they seem to live,
unaware of what they could give.
Stumbling ahead, each word seems so bland,
with a perfect poem, an inch from my hand.
When they finally come to me, flowing and true,
I will put them on paper just for you.
*For the challenge 'Writers Block' by
See more poems by Billyrob
View this poem
Comment on this poem