Monday, May 15, 2017

Truth about writing


How I wish that I was fit
Even just a little bit
To walk across fields of green
Or run on the beach serene

But my legs don't want me to
Active days are now all through
My fingers though are all right
On the computer they tap all night

My mind's busy as a bee
Sometimes a sailor at sea
Or a lover in a bed
As on her breast I lay my head

She whispers sweet words to me
Rogue I am, through dreams I see
I write them down unaware
As her fingers run through my hair

Now at my desk I tap away
Break of dawn 'til sky turns grey
Nourished by a coffee cup
Until those sweet words all line up

Then the writer's fantasy
To the readers seems to be
So real as they read each word
Which of course is so absurd



Image 1 found at www.rd.com
Image 2 found at www.videoblocks.com

Please note neither of the men illustrated is me!

3 comments:

  1. Thank you for dropping in and linking your lovely poem at Monday WRites
    Have a nice week Robin

    much love...

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  2. I love this poem! As you take yourself away in your beautiful lines, you take your reader along too, and we get to remember our shining moments, too.

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  3. not so absurd you can live other lives through your characters things you cannot or would never ever do.

    ReplyDelete