time alone with my notebook
is such precious time
our breakfast meetings over coffee
staring out the window
the world in mid-yawn
when clues awaken
pop out of holes
or land on a branch
when I point and he agrees
“that could be interesting”
we brainstorm together
the scribble and scratch
words blended
torn apart
rearranged shaped
a creation born from nothing
but will it live?
this poem still wet
and wobbly
is trying to stand
on its own
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