Words flow from out my head,
some with love; some with dread.
I know not what is in store,
they just keep coming, more and more.
I wish I could tell you why.
I can't now but soon will try
to explain what words do to me,
when I am writing, it's then I see,
they awake my mind, an open door.
The words are written down on paper
but there is so much more.
A switch turns on; I'm out of bed,
to write the words but instead,
I'm left with being awake at five.
Thank you God, for my being alive.
Words come fast, fleeing to be free,
helping to rid myself of a memory.
Oh, Lord, please let peace be with me,
I need to sleep or is this my epiphany?
Here we go again, just once more,
words on paper, some on the floor.
Lively, descriptive words that I adore,
wiggling, flopping, asking for more.
Now the tide is slowing fast,
an oxymoron of my past.
I should say words, start to ebb.
If I were a computer I'd say web.
Well that was refreshing, for goodness sake.
Now I am so very much, wide awake.
A poor excuse for you to see,
about my life's uncertainty.
It's not a fear of dying for me,
but one of having to live, without thee.
A Comment by Loy
I really like this poem - I don't know how I missed it before - just saw it today...