Another rough draft. I really should make more effort to polish these poems up before I publish them. I suppose it’s the nature of something like NaPoWriMo, the purpose is, for me at least, to stir my creativity. I haven’t had a lot of success.
End Of The Beginning
Words flowing from mind to fingertips A tale running out, growing without knowing how.
They appear on the the screen before me, changing the plan with every click-clack of keys.
Where did those twenty thousand words appear from? I’m sure there were only five thousand when wrote the first Draft?