A glass window
Sharp and crystal clear
Wide expanse of sea right ahead
Birds free as the air
Sky somersaulting in the sea
Sun rays melting into the sand
A surfer having the best time of his life
Beautiful nymphs floating around
She turned and turned the pictures
Twisted them in beautiful moulds
None provided inspiration
The paper was crushed and now bore zillions creases
It lay all alone on the table
The keys of the typewriter rusted
It looked gloomy like a cobweb of a dead spider
She sat and sat
Spanned days and nights
Traversed dreams
None provided inspiration
She twitched and twitched
Walked and walked
What was it with her
The poem was buried deep inside
Strangling itself to death
The words were climbing the trees which were faraway from this island
She wondered and wondered
She realised she was really happy.
Was that it?
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