Random objects, unplanned situations, snippets of conversations, and fragmented thoughts stir my imagination. Empty picture frames always get my wheels turning. I assume they once held a special image. Did the pink one surround a photo of a novice ballerina in her first tutu? Perhaps a soothing watercolor of an ancient cypress tree draped in a seductive veil of Spanish moss filled the interior of a matching green frame. And the ornate gilt square elevated the importance of small oil painting reflecting the tentative strokes of an artist’s self-portrait.
Pristine pages in a leather-bound journal, a sterile word document, and reams of boring snow-white copy paper elicit similar responses. Far from being daunting or creating fear, a blank page challenges my wildest fantasies and my amateurish abilities. Endless possibilities arise, each tale vies for my consideration, and I must decide. I close my eyes and start typing. Once I begin…
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The Reluctant Poet 
Thanks for sharing. 💗
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