Sophia DiCristoforo

To the Writer Hopeful

How can you write
Compelling works of fiction
If you have no stories?
How can you obtain
Such imaginings
If not by delving headfirst
into the pages of a book
To be engulfed in the magic
of unfamiliar worlds
Brewing up a soup inside
The fishbowl of your mind
Of people, places, things
That make you forget where you are
As reality quickly dissolves
Onto an unnamed cloud
Whisked away into the sky
Until it rains
Surely these pages
Are to a writer
A particular grace
Which can so easily be obtained
They wait on shelves for uninspired eyes
To be opened them and nourish
Minds with good food
And unknowingly allow the seeds of stories
Take root within them