Artist's Touch

Cool pad under my palm

Pen touches to the surface

Mind displayed, thoughts arrayed

Ability to see it first in my head

Then make it a reality for others to view.

But today my fingers tremble,

The lines uneven and misplaced.

It’s a clear mental picture

But it won’t appear on paper.

And slowly, the image fades,

Blurring into foggy shapes with little meaning

An artist lost, the mind erodes

There’s nothing left for me here.