Making Writing Wait

Sometimes I’m surprised Writing has anything to do with me. I’m so mean to it. Last night, when the house was dark and all else were sleeping, I was still abed, awake and crafting sentences in my head.

But I refused to get up and write them down.

I know most writers insist that you must capture your ideas as you can, else they flee away forever. I believe that.

But I knew if I got up, I’d be awake for hours. I was too tired. So, in a no-nonsense inner voice, I told my writing this:

Check back with me tomorrow. If you really, really want to be a
poem, you’ll just have to hang out in my memory until I get to my computer at a decent hour.

And it did. (I also thought up three blog posts, two emails, and the first four paragraphs of a children’s story. Let’s see if they all hung around.)
********

tightly coiled brown curls
as thick as stars

the brush of her fingertips
like a thousand kisses

is the fall of Hope
fresh, new snowflakes

landing lightly
on her upturned face and palms

despite the empty
air of the room