A Writer's Plea Poem by Maureen Alikor

Forgive me
the speech have become redundant
the fingers have chosen to be valiant
I may not be a talker
but of a truth I am a writer
take away the pad
take away the pen
then you have left me naked
and for with then alone
am clothed

Hate my guts
but hate not the truth
I am lost in my own world
and to find me I must scribble

like a toddler,
I am trying to find my lines
trying to leave traces
that lead to my destination

the baby knows not
but it sure scribbles
yet finds joy in the non-sense

to a lay mind
it may mean junk
but to the baby's intuition
it is all she has