I have words that long for the spilling. They tumble inside of me, deep. And so I write.
I am invisible. Lost in the world of diapers and dishes. Who I am is trapped within. And so I write.
I have songs that wait for hearts to sing them. And so I write.
I am filled with stories just waiting for eyes to read them. And so I write.
I write and I write until I feel that I am empty of words. I write and I write letting the inner me escape the trappings of wipes and dish soap. I write and I write listening for hearts that are singing. I write and I write in hopes that eyes enjoy the reading.
The words have been loosed, the poet awakend......
and so I write.