Sat Here Thinking

I sit by the fire,
to write my only desire.
I can hear a roar,
an old time movie score.
Words rush around my head,
the page waiting to be fed.
A stillness held me fast,
now releasing me at last.
A myriad of ideas,
appear then quickly disappear.
If to one I could hold,
a poem would unfold.
I could feed the page at last
releasing it..from its fast.

© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw