NaPoWriMo: Day twenty three

You know some days it’s ok

When perched on the corner of an empty bed

Window opened as far as it will grow

Sun beating its chest high above the clouds

Wind a child’s laughter

It’s ok

When the pen refuses to move

And the page lays open

As quiet as the prayers of church mice

And the silence gathers around you

Thick and heavy

It’s ok

Sometimes

To admit that things are not ok…

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