Written by Karisshma Kaur
A wannabe writer sits at a table in an offbeat café
Writing her days away
She can’t ever tell if she’s good
She can’t ever tell if she’s bad
When asked
“I’m no Hemingway,” she’ll say
All she knows is the passion
The thrill in the creation of worlds
And the inherent romance of a story
Maybe that’s enough
Maybe that’s enough for now
Her amorous affair with the craft
The liberation in a gust of fiction
Through the eyes of another
They were masterpieces
They were gems
Yet she considered herself
A wannabe writer
Perhaps one day
She’ll say
It wasn’t all that awful
And her works were indeed beautiful
Till then, my friend
She’ll continue to sit at that table in the offbeat café
With a mug of Earl Grey
Writing her days away
Cover image by Thought Catalog on Unsplash
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