Alive

Quite simply, like paring down an apple

To its core, words keep me alive

They give me freedom and the ability to grow –

As well as allowing me to fall back

Because words come and go

Brushed and pink outside my window

Rain pouring down

Or rainbows after the droplets stop

It really doesn’t matter as long as I can put pencil to paper

Or the clickety-clack of a keyboard

Letters turning into my own logic

That perhaps a few people understand- Good people

Sometimes the key strokes create my story into a being

Telling my story into tangibility

Sometimes happy

Sometimes sad

Even I don’t know how they they fit

But every story must start with a single word

So here I am – letting letters fall from my jumbled brain.