My mind is bare as I stare at my notebook

With a pencil in my hand

And my mind cleared

What is it that I should smear into,

Words across this page?

Should I write of happiness?

Or, should it be of love?

Maybe I should write of sorrow or of sadness

Still yet, whichever way I decide

There are no words yet that come to mind

If I may say, I believe this is what they call,

A true youths writers mind

And if it is not, then, I shall let it be

So, what does this mean to me?

Not a young writer as far as age

But a young writer whose mind is at the beginning stage

So I will continue on with

Determination and dedication

StoryWriter1976@aol.com