The Writer

There's this rhythm fleeting
Like a shadow on the corner
Of my vision flying
I shake my head and it's gone

I put my pen to paper
Trying to capture the ember
And sparks from the still
Unborn song

This constant struggle
From my head to my heart
That is so necessary
For the music to start

Its rampage on the sheet
Words and melody meet
Leaves me feverish and cold
For a story to be told