photo © 2008 Al | more info (via: Wylio)
Habit
Woke up this morning. S-l-o-w-l-y stretched with a yawn.
Last thirty-one days, my first thoughts at sunrise:
Publish. For there was a sense of accountability.
A yearning to be apart of a magnificent group of writers.
To learn, to share, to hope, to inspire.
But not today.
Deep breath. The challenge is over. D-o-n-e. Complete.
I felt something missing. The day seemed incomplete.
My heart was a little sad. I wondered what to do.
Ideas, words, phrases still tumbled in my head.
I asked: Why do I want to write?
Today, I write for me.
Habit
Woke up this morning. S-l-o-w-l-y stretched with a yawn.
Last thirty-one days, my first thoughts at sunrise:
Publish. For there was a sense of accountability.
A yearning to be apart of a magnificent group of writers.
To learn, to share, to hope, to inspire.
But not today.
Deep breath. The challenge is over. D-o-n-e. Complete.
I felt something missing. The day seemed incomplete.
My heart was a little sad. I wondered what to do.
Ideas, words, phrases still tumbled in my head.
I asked: Why do I want to write?
Today, I write for me.
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