'My Imagination' Poem by Linda Winchell

Just my imagination,
Taking me places in its' minds reality.
Conjuring up poetic imagages,
Of what my eyes fear to see.

Deep within its' caverns,
Are shadows of many things.
Bubbling up a culdrone of thoughts,
Only my mind can bring.

Spewing out like volcanic ooze,
Running down my sunken cheeks.
Writting words of what I know not,
And of which I never dare to speak.

Why then is my mind saying these things?
That I now type out in verse.
What is it that causes me,
That words seem to now rehearse?

Brain cells dieing off,
And replacing them with new.
Is this the case of a new found intellect?
That only my imagination knew?

For all of this to continue,
I must nourish it with stuff.
That none of what my imagination knows,
Will ever leave these keys I touch.