I look lustfully at my heart’s desires
Dickens, Chaucer, sweet William
temptation is calling
lines of ink swirl across the page
luring me to worlds of trial, triumph, true love
seductively calling me to caress their covers
pray tell but a moment
whispers of a verse slip fretfully through my mind
fragments of a broken dream
I lunge for my notebook
I scrabble for my pen
no ink seems ill-boding
I lay the tip gently to the page
several minutes pass
I lift the vessel of my creativity
only to find a dot where my pen blatantly rested
I turn my back on my first loves
true loves
and begin to pour over my pre-calculus again