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A candid look at myself when I write, set in poetic style. |
In the recess of daylight the shadows trick, Fireflies dance against a vine laden wall. The ghosts and goblins, around the fire do fly. And I created them all. Through whimsy and fancy I give them each life With one mighty stroke of the pen. I shape them to do, what my will deems them to, Their existence on my hand depends. With one swift movement I dictate lives Whether they shall know pleasure or pain. I toy with the words, that build them a world, Yet give them no voice to complain. I am the mistress of the place in my mind where fiction and fantasy grows. Its hidden quite nicely, till I beckon it come, Like a rampaging river it flows. Yet I stop to wonder as I begin to create, When the birthing of new lives retrace. What if another, much more than I am, Rules my world from some distant place. Maybe my pen with the might of a sword Was a gift written in just for me. Who might be playing out, this life of mine? A delightful, yet sad, comedy. |