(Photo: Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash)
She was up all night.
Words crowded her mind. Piled atop each other, they kept coming
Impatient. Wanting to be picked.
Even the discarded ones pressed behind closed lids, trying to repeat.
A few slipped, surprising and lubricated by unexpected tears.
Of worry.
Of hope.
Of fatigue.
She tossed and turned. She wrote. She paced.
And still words tumbled. Filling every space.
In the small hours she ran the tub.
Soaked.
Prayed to soften the callouses
And the rough edges
Snagging nonsense
In her mind.
As dawn rose, she was bare.
Exhausted.
Script mulled.
Not quite ready,
But word lulled.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Script in 100 words
Na'ama Yehuda 
Well done 🙂
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Thank you! 🙂 I figure most of us know some such nights. Bath not mandatory. 😉
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A very evocative poem.
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‘words lulled…’ if only…
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Right?!!! One may dream … 😉
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at least we can still do that…
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Indeed! Never stop dreamin’!
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After reading that, I need a nap. Exhausting, but excellent poem that sets both scene and mood.
Why does my muse have such wonderful ideas at 3:00 AM? Cleverly created, Na’ama.
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Ah, the 3am Muse Dump! 🙂 Must be a cousin of my muses. 🙂
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Maybe so.
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🙂 May the muses visit when it is most convenient.
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I’m in total agreement, Na’ama. As long as they keep coming back. 🙂
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Amen amen amen to that!
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Lovely 🙂
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Thank you! 🙂
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