I like to dream; I do it a lot.
Work gets done in my mind, but not
in the world where I must work
and feel guilty when I shirk.
Books get written in my mind
and to a lesser extent you'll find
real tomes appear, but they're just a few
of all the ones I plan to do.
Ideas come, but I am slow
to act on them so the world might know
what I am actually capable of
writing the things I hate and love.
I get distracted, mostly by doubt
making it hard to get my work out.
And when I find courage, my words to share
I worry a lot that no one will care.