Writing

A rush of images turns into a frenzy,
Words struggle to define what I've seen.
A simple emotion or a child's wonder of life,
I want to discover what they really mean.

From daylight to dusk my mind races,
Until my thoughts take the form of verse.
There are days when I see it as a gift,
Others when I view it as a curse.

Moonlight streams through the window,
As my thoughts are carried to my fingers.
Mental images cover my thoughts like skin,
On the keyboard my revelations linger.

Contentment washes over me,
As I savor the words I've written so fast.
Gift or curse, I'm never really sure,
I only hope that it always lasts.
© 2006 Dianna Doles Petry







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