Writing is a passion
A work of art
A form of compassion
A break from the hard
Hard times that seem to consume my life
No matter how horrible
No matter how cold
I always have a place
To spill out my soul
With a piece of paper
And a pen in my hand
I have a place to spin
A tale of a far-off land
Of dragons and knights,
Of peace and of fights;
O lords and of ladies,
Of pirates and fairies;
Of normal and unusual
Of current times and lost centuries
In the craziness of life
This is where I stop to breathe.
I immerse myself in a story-line;
Lose myself in a plot
Watching the story wind
Asking the who, where, when, why, what
My pen is my paintbrush
And with it I draw
Sometimes slow, sometimes rushed,
And bare my soul raw
My pen is my window
To worlds far away
With it I can show
The world to those who choose to stay
To stay in the story,
And journey with me
To realms far away
Across land; across sea.
