Approaching the Final Turn
I know only too well there'll come a time
when the page is too vast and too white
to willingly accept my attempted rhyme
that I've struggled all too mightily to write.
The exact and precise words won't come
running on to the page at my command.
Oh, I may coax the appearance of some,
but they may tend to get tired and bland.
I will sit in my den and stare for a while,
trying to muster a coherent sequence,
attempting to recapture my unique style
that once bordered on soul eloquence.
That time is not now but it draws near,
although I feel nimble, challenge ready.
My rhyming words you'll continue to hear
as what remains of my wits hold steady.
Thankful I am that sentence structure
does not fill my mind with abject fear.
There'll be more from me in the future,
though I'm between third and fourth gear.
Submitted for the No Frills challenge
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