Posted in Poetry

To the Author Who is Writing Me

Sometimes I dream, if only on the page, of a
Prairie running as far as the eye can see and a
Stream – babbling and bouncing over rocks and roots and
A sky made just for me

Sometimes I flee a rain cloud overhead, all the while
Wishing it would softly rain on me;
That the sky would run dark if only for a moment so I could
Cry a cautioned tear

Sometimes I fly through mid-drift skies
Whirling and swirling like Dorothy finding Oz and it
Feels like just when one chapter in my life ends,
A new one bursts onto the page: mid-sentence

Sometimes my best moments begin in
Medias Res and other times
I feel like I begin at the ending
Or end at the beginning
Of some half-imagined adventure or another

Sometimes I find that the joys of life come from the
Simplest of things – a newborn’s cry, a sniff of honeysuckle,
A memory, not far off…
But in all things I give praise – glorious –
To the Author who is writing me


Mom. Word Nerd. Friend.

One thought on “To the Author Who is Writing Me

  1. Wow! Thank you for sharing this poem. Very enjoyable. Beautiful imagery. Uplifting. In a world that can often be so harsh, experiencing this poem was like a quiet respite in a place of no worries or concerns. To be carried away into the world of the heart. Not only within the imagery but mostly from the feelings within the poem. A writing from a gentle, kind heart. Not something that is experienced everyday.

    Liked by 1 person

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