U.S?...no its US.

I sit down to write.
My vision is blurred,

A sniff, a sob…wipe
I see a clear white sheet.

But, before I put pen to paper
I reconsider

There’s a blot on it.
Do I overlook and proceed,

I think not!
How can I work around it,

The paper is clear.
…if not for that one blot.

My thoughts suppress.
And all ,for that one blot.

Bottled up emotions,
No words I pen.

Stopped by a dot .period

I need this,
I love to write

So, I take a moment

I take off my glasses
to ease my head

As I glanced at the paper

There no longer seems to be blot
Myopia you say,No!

I put on my glasses,
The blot resurfaces.

Aha !

Wait a minute…
The blot ,it’s on my glasses.

Am I the paper?
Am I the writer?

When I say:
Why did the glasses….Come between US ?

Time and love –heals, they say
As for me I wait on my love!!!