Business Made of Words -LOH 272

No store to open, no sign to hang,
Just pages filled when ideas sang.
A blog, a space, a written thread,
A bunch of words inside my head.

I wished to write of daily things,
Of quiet thoughts and what time brings.
Capture the moments most would overlook,
Turned into lines, a living book.

But fear stood tall beside the dream,
Whispering doubts, harder than it seems.
“What if no one stops to read?”
“What if words are not enough indeed?”
These are the words my fear feed.

Resources felt like heavy chains,
Money, skills, pouring rains.
I told myself, “Not now, not yet,”
As hope and caution quietly met.

Still, the wish refused to fade,
It waited patient, softly laid.
Because writing feels like honest work,
Even though some thinks I'm just a dork.

If money flowed and fear was gone,
I’d start that blog and carry on.
Do it for years and years on end.
I'll enjoy each time the reality bend.

I’d learn the craft, I’d go to school,
Learn more words, won't sound like a fool.
Let readers come when they feel seen,
In words that rest somewhere between.

Talent grows when given time,
Over time, more words, more rhyme.
With people helping, guiding true,
That dream would feel more possible too.

So yes, I wish to run that space,
An online home with steady pace.
A business where I write whatever's real,
Built not on rush but what words I feel.

For now I write when my time is free.
But how I want to just write with glee.
Even without too much to show,
The dream still lives, and continues to grow.

And maybe that’s where businesses start,
Not in wallets but in the heart.
With courage growing line by line,
Until one day, the dream says, “It’s time.”

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