Synchronicity and the Muse

I look for fresh inspiration,
through my speckled office window
clouds glow.

Muffled sounds of tram wheels rolling,
sighing softly with the effort
they clank.

Cleaning lady enters my room
cheerily smiles and says hello
to me.

Orange plastic bracelets in box
Wait to be strung with fishing line
for art.

Across the way curtains are drawn
a chandelier glows behind them
door shuts.

I put the last of the paper
carefully in the printer tray,
then close.

I pray for a concept to jump,
to slap, to strike, to come to play
right now.

Draft photographs whisper secrets,
a thousand words, my wonderland
will be.

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