The wind is cold
The sun has completed her daily visit
Another day gone, yet I still have the same results
Since when did I become this alien
I am a confused poet
All my ideas have left me
My pen renains idle
Sheets upon sheets lie before my eyes
Waiting to be filled with my thoughts
They will be waiting longer than expected
My mind has disappointed me
It seems to have forgotten its adventures
I watch the leaves dancing in the late June air
Perhaps they might offer me some calm
Different shades of green
All contributing to this grave mind block
I sit and watch; minutes pass along with two pigeons
Goosebumps begin to take over my skin
I do not want to go inside to face the cruel warmth