Poetry

Writing

My pen flows across paper,

Worlds unfolding and shifting before my eyes,

Next word, next chapter, a caper,

My mind expanding to except new stories as my imagination flies.

I can fly to highest heights,

Delve deep into stories of old,

Seeing tales through the eyes of Egyptian kites,

Hearing murderous plots wound 'round the presence of gold,

Nations and people preoccupied in their fights.

I can understand each side of me,

Each character a piece of me,

Every story belonging to a different dream by me,

Every place, a place inside of me,

My tales are a part of me.