The block

She took off her glasses, setting them down beside her. She rubbed her temples in despair.

It had been so long since this had happened last. She had hoped that it had been the first and only time that it would happen.

But no, here she was yet again. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason to it. Sometimes things just went her way. And at other times, like now, they just didn't.

Maybe some inspiration would come, maybe a random thought would spark off something momentous within her.

Perhaps a glass of wine would help her to relax and let the ideas flow.

She walked to the fridge and poured herself a large glass of white, padded back to the sofa, curled up comfortably and tried to think.

She sipped the wine, waiting, waiting for inspiration, but still nothing came.

This was no good! People were relying on her, waiting for her guidance, humour and inspiration.

Maybe a walk! She threw on her coat and headed out into the cool, Spring evening and headed off.

Yes, sometimes finding inspiration was difficult.

What to write, what to write. A poem, a story? Or maybe a deep and meaningful thought.

Serendipity smiled to herself. Maybe tomorrow the writers block would lift.

Maybe tomorrow she would pen the blog post of her life.