And so, I struggle to find my home 
Through every alley and street, I roam.
A brief stop in the corner café
Peering out windows . . . foggy, dismal gray. 

A cup of coffee awakens the mind
Allowing thoughts to slowly unwind.
A pastry made to fill the urge,
Words unwritten slowly merge.

Across the room, as others glare
My head in hands, as in prayer.
Another sip, in hope to unlock
A writer’s nightmare – the writer’s block.

The whispers travel through my ear,
Some I understand, some unclear.
The words are tangled, make no sense
Every thought, so intense.

And so, I struggled to find this home,
Through every alley and street, I roamed.
Stopping briefly in this corner café
Peering out windows – foggy, dismal gray.

And here I take my pen in hand,
Paper wrinkled, and dirty with sand.
All my thoughts were once entwined,
Writing pages . . . whispers, in my mind.

© D. A. Isley aka Dahveed 2024