Scattered thoughts written on bits of paper. Not really. More like typed on bits of assorted electronics.
Sometimes I miss writing on paper. Nice new clean paper with that new paper smell. That smell like a book opened for the first time, to reveal the world hidden inside. Blank paper with nothing but possibility waiting there between the blue lines.
Finding the perfect pen, the one that lets the thoughts flow freely without hesitation. That perfect pen, you searched for in every store in town finally finding it in the little stationary store tucked up beside the bank. The pen that feels like it was made for your hand. The pen that holds all your thoughts inside waiting to be released.
New paper and the perfect pen, the muse is unleashed. The world opens up to revel, endless possibilities, a mystery to be solved, a love to be lost, a heart to be captured or maybe just a thought. A fleeting thought that you chase around the page like clouds floating through the sky on a warm spring day. Flowery words that spring up from the fertile ground between the lines. Nice even lines like a freshly tilled field waiting to be planted.
Everyone is awake now. My thoughts scatter like mice back into the dark recesses. Time to start the day, make the coffee, and fed the furry children.