When my mind is in a groove
And my words refuse to move
A black pen sits on white page
And ideas will not engage
A different pace required
For neurons to be fired
Must create an idea stew
Where I spoon up words to chew
When a movie line shoots dart
A straight shot into my heart
Or soft strum of a guitar
Stirs up idea bazaar
Or a stroll through local park
Nature show creates a spark
Or I hear some people talk
And my words begin to walk
Now black pen leaves inky trail
As my words begin to wail
Pen and paper capture life
Tales of good times and of strife
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