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She sits by the window
beneath thin blanket
feeling the wind barge in through the open window
watching the curtain flutter,
and the trees thrash their arms about
and wonders when she might get out
into nature and stir the clouds?!
Then she takes a breath
deep and rich
and turns upon papers clean.
With the wind’s chill waking her soul
she picks up her pen and scrolls
faster and messier
the images tumble through her mind
dialogues and characters changing
faces and voices morphing
and she laughs quietly
relieved
that a little bit of nature has inspired
the walls to turn to smoke
and she writes, the tale she had struggled with
and now and again
she glances outside
to the promise of sunshine
upon writing ‘The End’ for once
and thus feels tempted to try
and win that freedom to rejoice.
So she writes with the beckoning wind in her hair
and the land outside.
Soon – but for now, must write.