The Little Flower

I Cannot Write a Poem

I cannot write a poem today.

Though truly I have tried,

My words don't glide in flowing verse

Or effortlessly rhyme.

My words can't paint a vivid image,

Nor inspire in any way.

Others' wondrous gifts I haven't

To make them dance and sway.

For their verses sing with beauty,

With grace and eloquence they call;

How could mine display such talent

When I have none at all?

In vain I've sought to put my feelings into meter,

But I cannot take the fragments of a shattered heart

And meticulously craft them

Into works of art.

How does one write a poem?

Perhaps I'll know one day.

But as for now,

I cannot write a poem today.