Papers And Views A dull sunset as I'm behind the tintless curtains of smoothness On my antique desk I sit , with my papers , crisp and blank They smell so fresh , with a cup of lime on the side as I sit The rays penetrate the material , reach my desk as I write , Leaving marks of light , dim light on the wooden floor I take a sip , with lime and brightness I'm inspired With quietness and tender cushions on my chair I sit and fill my papers , flip and toss papers Pen points crack , fall off and I sigh As I take a break , I lean backwards Feed on some of the energy Thank God for my health , take a breath and get up I pull the curtains aside , to see the naked view I spot the green trees , heavy structures , but still waving I can almost catch the air waves , produced from the heated atoms and moved leaves I turn back to my work , sit and drink my fresh lemonade , I pick up my pen again and press on the blank sheets , Write and write and obtain my satisfaction And smell the papers , that drug my soul