the right story

thoughts spin
like a whirling dervish,
an analogy so overused,
yet so appropriate.
i sit and try to collect the thoughts
into some semblance of order.
lined up like soldiers,
or cereal boxes,
or cans of tomato soup.
it's hard, though,
when the story i want to write
is so close to my heart.
too close, really.
i need more space between it and me
before it can come out.
so the three hundred words
i started last week
will need to sit and stew,
brew, percolate, just wait.
until i can step back
and look at it with clear eyes.
then, i hope,
i'll find the right story.