I’m in the middle of the woods I’m lost,

I’m sitting in a table with thirst,

There lies an unwritten paper infront of me,

I’m holding a pen rolling it thousand times,

My mind so blank I am lost,

I look around but all I see is nature.

A drop of ink in a paper I start to write,

I look left there’s a bookcase of mine,

I look right I see my escape room, the bedroom.

Finally I feel at home again,

All I needed was a pen and a paper,

A poet never looses it’s roots when there’s a pen and a paper,

With poetry I am alive.