another one

[bethlizard]

She stays at home and writes
what might become a masterpiece.
She bites her pen and fights
the urge to lay it down.
She turns off all the lights
and sits there in the darkness with
her teacup on her right,
her face one single frown.
The world that she creates
evades, eludes and teases her.
She has to sit and wait
till it decides to come
to let her seal its fate,
and let her hear it breathing, and
then send it on its way
around a paper sun.