Since childhood
Words have dropped from my mind onto the paper.
Sometimes faster than they could be written.
As time wore on they were less frequent
The observation became more private -
Life over took the pen.
Then the thought of pictures telling stories...
Again, I was passionate
Once more All must be shown.
Yet now, I ask myself is this futile?
All the words lost - photographs stolen!
I am left wondering
Why have I done this.
Did I write all those words for myself?
Did I save those moments in time for no one?
The bee on the thistle
The geese on the pond
I'll never know
Click on the author's byline for bio and
list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.
This issue appears in the ezine at www.pencilstubs.com and also in the
blog www.pencilstubs.net with the capability of adding comments at the
latter.
