Breached

There has been
no time
to write,
and so,
the little puddle
of unwritten words
has widened,
lengthened,
deepened,
from puddle,
to pond,
to lake,
to sea,
to blue-green, sun-gilt,
restless ocean…
so near…
so unreachable…
until,
one tiny trickle
forces its way
between the barren grains
of ‘no time’
to insist
‘Write. Now.’