by: Annona Moose (Contributor)
I just thought thinking was a waste of time
As I laid on the couch tracing lines on a notebook.
No real products. Just figures on a page.
The songs I never started.
Maybe I’m too afraid to write it down
So I label it a waste.
Like thinking of words and dreaming up rhymes
So I push it aside and focus on tasks.
Measuring windows, painting frames, cleaning glass.
Seeing my work finished,
The product shining fresh.
My body drenched with the odor of hard work
But here I am on the couch
Writing a poem no one will read
Humming tunes no one will hear
Thinking thoughts that still aren’t clear
A waste of time I thought to myself
Until I discovered how my lines formed
From doodles and marks to alphabet words
Come poetry, rhyme, and verse
Then chorus and music—a song to be sung
Birthed from a thought about how thinking was dumb.