Writer's Block in Paradise

Silky sundown

Seeps into my soul

Swaying softly into the breeze

the trees grasp the shade

like ghosts drifting towards graves

Surrounded by soliloquies

and children singing folk songs

I search the blank pages

for a sweet melody

Only to be rewarded by

Silence and stillness

Poems of love

and lazy lives

Linger somewhere

Yet I close the journal

without penning a word

For some moments

get lost in translation

and are left alone

without languid language