My Writing Room
Once upon a distant timeI entertained a plan
I'll have a room where I will sit
A pen tucked in my hand
I'll close the door and settle in
Discovery on my mind
I'll leave behind this world I know
For one of words and rhyme
My pen: my foe and dearest friend
She is my steadfast guide
With her, I find myself and more
On plain or blue-inked lines
I'm victim of a yearning
A...looking for and hope
My pen, who knows me all too well
My struggle and my grope
Casts forth her words as passionate
As heart and soul can bear
Dare I choose them? I don't know!
Oft times, I sit and stare
Yet still, my pen hurls forth a phrase
In which I see the like
Is it love so great? Or hatred?
Kind words? Or cruel bite?
Yes, in my room I'm rarely safe
Yet still...my soul takes flight
There is magic in these words I catch
Some most gracious, some contrite
My pen sails on with spirit
My soul with silent song
It's in my room...my writing room
I know that I belong!
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