A Poet’s Block

Day after day,
I write musing words
in an endless stream
hoping to churn
a good piece.

All that comes to mind
is my mother’s voice,
played like a broken record.
Shattering my brain
into a million pieces.

Line after line,
I write dull thoughts
striving for something
better than a sad
freestyle poem.

If only I could share
the love I hear in her
voice when we talk.
I leave this not for you but me
in hope of a better attempt
tomorrow.